Can You Make It Easier
by Ivy Leaves
Summary: Val and Tyler have long since said goodbye... but their hearts are still broken. Five years may have brought them too far apart--unless a mutual friend can rekindle flames that never died... **Completed**
1. You Know That You Need Her

Can You Make It Easier

Can You Make It Easier

Chapter 1: "You Know That You Need Her"

Melissa Daniels stepped out of her red car, placing her black ankle boot—new, with inch-thick soles—onto the blacktop and shifting weight onto it. The parking lot was nearly empty under the heat that beat down on her—most people preferred to use the front one. Matter of fact, most people didn't know about this one. But Melissa knew Hank Beecham, and Hank Beecham knew Tyler Connell, and her roommate loved Tyler Connell, and therefore Melissa Daniels was here today at Connell Cellular Phones.

Her layered brown hair hung loose around an oval face, strands falling into gray eyes and onto darkly tanned skin. Shoulders were bared by a red halter top, and dark denim jeans fit her form perfectly. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but that was the whole point of this visit—she wanted to see how Tyler reacted.

No, she wasn't trying to get him to like her—quite the opposite, actually. She was trying to get him and her roommate back together after a long five years. Her roommate?

Valerie Lanier—better known as Val.

The building was modern, reflective glass rising amongst silver concrete to look cold, and forbidding. But the owner and founder, whose office was on the top floor, above eighteen other stories to look down from a nineteen-story lofty height, was neither cold nor forbidding.

He was heartbroken.

Melissa had played matchmaker many times before, and been successful in most attempts. These twenty-three year-olds were successful, but undoubtedly miserable—Val in medical school, Tyler head of a giant corporation a year out of college—not because of their job, but because of a loss that had disappeared five years ago. The loss? Each other.

Melissa read feelings well, and she was so sure of what she read here.

Unrequited love.

*

Tyler Connell sat at the wooden desk in his office, looking around it with a slight feeling of satisfaction, but another, more powerful feeling of loss. Cellular phones—new models, up for testing—were on display stands arranged on shelves around the room. The room was furnished in red cherry wood and gold handles, high-class and obviously expensive. Tyler was a multimillionaire—he could afford expensive.

A Waterford vase sat on a table inside the door, filled with yellow roses. A few pictures hung on the wall, framed with gold, matching the décor. A painting was artfully placed on a wall next to the bookshelf and tall wooden file cabinets. Atop his desk sat a state-of-the-art computer, with a 30" screen that was only 1" thick. The computer was equipped with high-tech software that allowed him to create 3D virtual models of new phone designs, scan in pictures of other designs co-workers had invented, send data to the numerous factories that manufactured his world-famous phones.

He swiveled his leather chair to face the lake visible through the floor-to-ceiling window. A wonderful view, especially from the nineteenth story of the building that had exquisite lakefront property. He had borrowed money to start this company, but had paid it all off.He may only have been worth fifteen million dollars, but his company was worth a billion, and so maybe that increased his value, because the company would never go without him. He knew he was amazingly lucky, a year out of college with a degree in business, had owned this company that had been started—unsuccessfully—by his grandfather for close to two years now. He had brought it to its feet and increased its value thousand times over, had become well renowned to everyone who owned a cell phone. He had even recently been included on top 50 most eligible bachelors list, as number 21.

Oh, he was aware he was lucky, but he was also aware that he was far from satisfied, far from ever complete. How could someone be complete when their heart was shattered into a million pieces? And his heart was so certainly shattered.

For the most valuable thing in the office to him, the office that held Waterford vases and golden frames, high-tech computers and valuable paintings, the most valuable thing sat in a silver frame on his desk—a frame marked with fingerprints, a frame that showed years of gazing upon it, a frame he had looked at millions of times in his effort to see the picture.

The picture of Val Lanier.

*

Melissa walked over to the door manned—more like guarded, actually—by the doorman, a man with a hooked nose and pale silver-white hair that owed its color mostly to age—he was the ripe age of sixty-two, though he often looked only fifty-eight—and missing two teeth that were replaced with dentures. He was skinny, not frail, but skinny, and his blue jacket and black trousers added to his toothpick-like figure. His name was Randolph McCabe.

Melissa swung open the glass door, but it had hardly swung shut behind her when Randolph cornered her.

"What's your name?" he asked, breath slightly raspy. He had had tracheotomy once, but it was minor and they had cleared his air passages again and sewn the hole so he could speak normally once more. However, the gentle—small but noticeable still—harshness was still there.

"Melissa Daniels." She tried to sound businesslike… and when Melissa Daniels wanted to be businesslike, watch out, world. He scanned the list with a gnarled finger and blue eyes, but evidently found no name that resembled hers.

"No name, missy, sorry." Randolph grinned, a habit that had infused itself in daily life. He grinned much, smiled hardly. There is a difference, for the lack of one makes the other one more noticeably gone and different, but many don't know that for a while.

"I'm sure I'm on there," Melissa said. "In fact, I bet I'm right on the VIP list."

"Nope, sorry, no Melissa Daniels," replied Randolph, squinting. "The only people on the VIP list are Valerie Lanier, and Hank Beecham, and…" He looked up suspiciously. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"Look, Randy," Melissa began; noticing Randolph's wince at what was presumably an old childhood name. "I'm a very good friend of Valerie Lanier's, and I bet if you tell Mr. Connell I'm here and that I'm Val's roommate, he'll let me through."

Randolph looked uncertain, but he pressed a button on the intercom on the wall: "Sir? There's a Melissa Daniels here and she says she's a roommate of Valerie Lanier's. Should I let her up?"

The voice that came from the intercom was surely Tyler Connell's, and Melissa knew that, instinctively.

"Send her up, and Randolph?"

"Yes, sir?" Randolph was suddenly formal. He knew this man, almost forty years younger, could fire him and stop his income completely. This man could turn his life around—for the worse or better.

"Put her down on the list, please."

Randolph seemed flustered, but he complied and let Melissa through the door.

*

_Rat-a-tat-tat._

Melissa's knock at the door was as business-like as her air was, as formal as she needed. She wouldn't turn on the charm, all she wanted to do was see the twitch in his eyes, not steal him away from Val forever. But if his eyes did flicker, she would be angry—Val was so helplessly, inexplicably _devoted_ to him, and if he didn't feel the same way… Melissa would be angry. Five years of Val's young life, heart split clear down the middle, all for nothing? No. Not if Melissa could help it…

The door swung open, and before her stood Tyler Connell. It was strange, she supposed, being such good friends—not to mention roommates—with Val and Hank's girlfriend for a year, and never having met Tyler Connell, the cell phone tycoon after two years on the job.

"Melissa," he greeted her, pleasantly, but not as happily as he would have greeted Val. The flicker in his eyes never occurred, though she had almost fooled herself into expecting it. She supposed he knew her name from Hank.

"Tyler." Melissa allowed cheer to creep into her voice—she'd never even get inside the door if she wasn't nice.

"Come in, why don't you?" he asked. Melissa nodded and stepped inside, onto the white carpet with an Oriental rug in the middle. Looking around, she realized he probably spent most of his time here, in this elaborate office, rather than at home where his thoughts could shift to Val.

"Nice place," she commented politely.

"Thanks," Tyler replied, wondering why in the world his best friend's girlfriend—and, he remembered painfully, his ex-girlfriend's roommate—had come. He didn't like calling Val his ex-girlfriend: it made everything too final. It should have been final after five years, but no… he had a feeling that, for him, it would never be final. Because when it was final, when the last, slightest flame of hope was extinguished, he would die. His soul would deteriorate rapidly, and he would be an empty shell.

"Welcome," said Melissa absent-mindedly, looking around the room as Tyler stood awkwardly. The flame of hope had flared suddenly, brightly, when she came—after all, who else to discuss Val with—but it was quickly dwindling once more. If she wasn't going to get to the point, why had she come? Did she even have a point?

"I'll be frank, Tyler," she said suddenly, turning to face him. Tyler was startled for a moment—had she read his mind? "You must be pretty special for Val to still like you after five years."

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, melting his knees into oblivion. He scrambled to hold onto the desk behind him—Val still liked him? How on earth? Was Melissa telling the truth? Why would she lie? Did he still have a chance with Val? Or was Melissa playing a game—a game that rose people's hopes and then flattened them instantly?

"She—she still _likes _me?" The words came with a gasping tone—he needed air, needed to regain senses and stop his heart from slamming into his chest and for once not have his throat go dry.

"Oh, sure." Melissa's words were casual, but she knew what an impact they would have on him. She had seen him stutter, seen him fall like a leaf off a tree, composed millionaire to trembling twenty-three-year-old. The change had been abrupt, but now she knew his weak spot.

_Of course_, she admitted, _I always knew it._

He fell into his chair, heart thudding against ribcage. This girl had suddenly become more than an acquaintance—she was now a connection to someone he had lost, someone he was dying to get back.

"But," Melissa added, "I want to know how you feel about her before I let you know how she feels about you." His eyes narrowed—she was cunning, intuitive, but not in a sly way… though she could make it sly if she wanted to. "After all, how do you know this isn't some harmless high school crush that you enhanced to make it seem like love? Maybe you don't really care about her."

The arrow had found its mark, and Tyler knew it. His eyes grew angry, not quite at her, but at the thought.

"Don't ever," he seethed, "say that I don't care about Val, all right? I have thought of her every day for five years, every second, every waking moment…" The words were enunciated; making sure that no meaning was mistaken in the outpour of the travails of what seemed the perfect life. "I would die just to be with her again! 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', right? Well, I guess my heart has grown pretty fond over the years, huh? But," Tyler continued, voice softening, "that particular epigram forgot to mention that my heart has also broken into pieces, time… after time… after time…" His breath was quiet, and Melissa had no doubt that every last word of what he had just said was utterly and completely true.

"Right, then," she said, to shift the uneasiness of that particular moment. Melissa's heart involuntarily forgave him for breaking Val's heart—somehow he had broken his heart at the same time.

"Has she forgiven me yet?" he asked, looking up from his hands, eyes red. "Does she still hate me?"

"She thinks she does," Melissa said, slowly choosing her words. "But I think she still loves you, deep inside. I think she knows it, but won't admit it. I think—I think she'd kill to have you back, to have you hold her again."

"And I'd kill to have her back," responded Tyler. He suddenly swore. "I _wish _I could talk to her! I _wish_!" Tyler swore again, angry.

"Then why don't you?" Melissa asked. She knew that Val wouldn't talk to Tyler on the phone, couldn't deal with how hard it was.

"You guys have Caller ID," he said morosely. Under any other circumstances, that statement might be funny, but Tyler was heartbroken and he meant what he said, so Melissa didn't laugh.

"I'll call her, then," volunteered Melissa, drawing her cell phone from where it was clipped to her jeans and dialing the number. Tyler watched helplessly—couldn't she consult him a little? But he was dying to talk to Val… The phone rang. And rang again. And rang. And…

"Hey, Melissa," said Val's choked-up voice. "I've got a killer cold, so do we have to talk right now?"

"Of course we do," came Melissa's cheery reply. "You'll never guess where I am."

On the other line, Val rubbed her head and blew her nose. "No idea."

"In San Francisco." 

That had gotten her. There was a hesitation, and then a change in Val's voice. "Oh, really?" She was trying to be casual… but Melissa wasn't fooled. "Say hi to Rachel for me." Rachel was Melissa's younger sister, who was in Delta Kappa Delta at California State.

"Actually, I'm not at Rachel's right now," said Melissa, like it wasn't a big deal.

"Where are you, then?" Val inquired, throat tightening and voice becoming anxious. Melissa would never forego a matchmaking plan…

"At Connell Cellular Phones, nineteenth floor." The statement drew silence from the other line… until Val realized what she had said.

"MELISSA ANDREA DANIELS, YOU WILL PAY!" Val shrieked, ignoring the fact that the whole apartment complex could probably hear her. Melissa wisely held the phone away from her ear until Val had run out of steam—and breath. Which was about five minutes, thirty-seven seconds.

"And," Melissa continued, "someone wants to talk to you." She smiled and handed the phone to Tyler, who took it uncertainly. For a few minutes, the phone was about a foot from his ear, because Val was screaming curses in every language known to man, but when she stopped he put it up to his ear.

"Hey, Val," he greeted her. Val was undergoing an internal struggle now—was she supposed to hate him or forgive him? And how was she supposed stop her knees from turning into liquid at the sound of his voice?

"Hello." Her voice was cool and business-like. Tyler inwardly noted how much Val and Melissa could sound alike when they wanted to be business-like. And how much Val had changed—it was evident in her voice that she was no longer exactly the same as she used to be. But he had changed too, Tyler admitted, and so how could that possibly make him less in love with her?

Obviously it couldn't.

"It's… Tyler," he said, stating the obvious for lack of better talk. How on earth were you supposed to make conversation with your ex-girlfriend that you hadn't seen for five years?

"I know." _Control, Val_, she ordered herself, knowing that deep down, she wanted to cry and say that she still loved him, even if he didn't love her back. _And fall into his arms, and… get a grip, Val._ She pulled herself out of her dreamy reverie. "Is Melissa listening in?"

Tyler looked around, but Melissa had pulled a psychology book off the shelf and seemed deeply engrossed in Chapter IV, Section II, the part about how child fears turn to adult phobias and paranoia. 

"I don't think so." What was so important that Melissa couldn't hear.

"All right." Relief shone in her voice—she wasn't about to have Melissa listen in on the conversation, not when it was Tyler and her talking.

"Why?" It was probably the wrong way to go, but Tyler was curious.

"No reason."

Fine, she didn't want to tell him. He didn't care. _Yeah, right,_ his inner voice told him. He scowled at it.

"So… I've missed you," said Tyler, looking at the sun glitter on the lake and the buildings across it. The words were out, and he didn't know if he wanted to hear what Val said next.

It was like her knees had been knocked out from under her, and she was lying on her back, gasping desperately for breath—and common sense.

"Oh," Val replied faintly. A long pause, then, hesitantly: "I've missed you, a little, too."

Tyler's heart banged into his chest again, full velocity. But those words—two small words—_a little_.

They were quiet for a few moments, trying very hard to understand what had been said.

"Put Melissa on, please," Val requested, business-like tone returning. Tyler's stomach dropped—though he had no way of knowing that hers dropped at the exact same time. Was this how it was supposed to end?

He silently handed the phone to Melissa, who had come over, sensing the end of the conversation.

"Bye," Val whispered into the phone as it left Tyler's ear.

"Bye," Tyler echoed. The end…

"Bye, Val, see you Friday," Melissa said briskly, then switched the phone off and clipped it to her jeans again. Tyler watched the phone, then turned towards to the window once more.

"Bye, Tyler."

Melissa had done what she came to do: she had planted the seed of doubt that was steadily growing, like a match ignited. She turned and walked deliberately towards the door, until Tyler's voice, sounding like it came from far away, stopped her.

"I'll live without her, right?" he asked. "Right?"

Her gray eyes bored into him for a minute.

"You know that you need her, Tyler," Melissa told him. "Now you just need to find out how much."

And with that, Melissa Andrea Daniels walked out the door of the office, firmly closing the heavy wooden door behind her.


	2. Too Late To Say Sorry

Can You Make It Easier

Can You Make It Easier 

Chapter 2: "Too Late"

_~*~_

Ring.

The phone's ring was insistent—and so was the person on the other line. No, no one ever called Tyler Connell a quitter.

Val stared numbly at the phone, at the Caller ID blank that was filled in by digitally written numbers: T CONNELL. She had never had this much trouble not answering the phone before. Sure, when it was he she often sat back, watched it ring, and then sobbed her eyes out afterwards. But it was harder now, actually having spoke to him the other day. She involuntarily reached for it and picked it up.

_Put it down,_ she ordered herself. But still she held on, dying to just hear his voice again, even if it meant insomnia that night, replaying a scene from five years ago.

_"Is this goodbye?" she asked, eyes questioning._

_"No!" Tyler was insistent—how was he supposed to lose Val over something that hadn't even been meant that way?_

_"Thanks for ending it now—it's better than later, when I actually might have died of heartbreak." Val's throat forced out the words. No, she didn't want to have it now than later! She wanted to enjoy it while she could._

_"But, Val, I don't want to…"_

_"Guess that it's too late, huh?"_

__Too late.

The words echoed in Val's brain cruelly, reminding her again and again of what had happened.

"Hello," she said to the mouthpiece of the telephone. On the other line, Tyler sighed with relief.

"Thanks for picking up. Look, Val, we need to talk."

"_Talk?_" Val screamed. "We ruddy well do need to talk! You better not be coming back to grovel, because I ruddy well don't want to listen! You dumped me, remember? Remember? I don't want to hear it, not after five years! Don't you dare say you just realized your mistake! I don't care!"

"Val—I still lo—"

But she had hung up. Tyler looked forlornly at the cell phone and sighed. "I still love you, Val. Even if you don't care." He pressed the End button. No, he could not take the blank buzz saying that Val thought it was over.

"Except," Tyler told the phone, "even if she thinks it's over, I won't."

The phone rang. Tyler stared as it as it rang again.

"Hello?" he asked, hoping it was Val. _Maybe I should make a cell phone with Caller ID,_ he thought. _Not a bad idea._

"Tyler!" The voice was not Val's, but it sounded familiar. Exactly like one he had heard the day before…

"Melissa?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Exactly. I tried calling your line a moment ago, but it was busy." Her voice was more informal now than it had been at their first meeting.

"I called Val," he said, depressed.

"I see. Did she answer?" Melissa was amazed. Val never answered Tyler's calls. _Well, almost never_, Melissa amended.

"Yeah." Tyler sighed. "Then she said she didn't want me to grovel because she didn't want to hear it and all."

"Ouch. How many times did she use ruddy?"

"About twice." _Was that a good or bad thing_?

"How long was the conversation?" Melissa, after a year and half of being Val's roommate in college, and another year or so of being a roommate in med school, was an expert in reading Val—one of the best interpreters. Tyler had probably been the best before, but Val-ese had changed since they broke up.

"About a minute. Maybe less."

"Ouch," Melissa said again. "She must be mad."

"Well, I guess she hasn't talked to me in, what, forever, so maybe she's releasing emotion," Tyler said hopefully.

"Right." Melissa sounded dubious as to whether it was that easy. Maybe he was right. Maybe Val forgave him. But in case that hadn't happened, she had a backup plan. "So, anyway, Tyler…"

"Yeah?" He was suspicious. This girl was devious, and she played it to her favor.

"I know how to get you to see Val again."

"You do?" Okay, now he didn't care if she was devious, this was playing to his favor as well.

"Yeah. Do you mind sleeping on a fold-out sofa?" That question wasn't necessary, Melissa knew, twisting the cord of the phone at Delta Kappa Delta, but it made it more mysterious and enticing and just prolonged knowledge of the plan. She was an expert in these matters, and she knew what his answer would be.

"Not if I get to see Val," Tyler said. "Am I coming to your apartment?"

Ooh, he was intelligent. "Exactly."

"But Val will kick me out."

_Okay, so maybe he still is good at reading Val_, Melissa said to herself. _But that's just a step in the right direction._

"We have a policy, Val and I," Melissa told Tyler, "and she can't kick out any guest I invite and I can't kick out any guest she invites. So, like, if I want my sister to come over but Val doesn't, then I can invite her anyway, as long as she doesn't, you know, interfere with Val's personal space."

"But Val will say I'm interfering with her personal space even if I'm not," Tyler pointed out. "And I don't want Val any madder than she already is."

Melissa hadn't considered that point of view in depth, but she had glanced over it a couple of times.

"Well, then we can work that out later. And don't you want to see Val?"

Kick in the stomach. "Of course I do!"

"Good. You have to pay for your own airfare, though. Pick you up on Friday morning, see you then."

And she hung up. Tyler looked at his phone.

"Why do they always do that?" he asked.

*

Val was watching TV on her couch, sniffing. Her cold wasn't quite gone, and she was left with a stuffy and runny nose, though she had no idea how she had both at once. Her head hurt and she just wanted to watch TV all day. _Which I have, considering it's three o' clock_, thought Val. 

She blew her nose and sighed, hoping her professors hadn't given pop quizzes today or the past two days she had been sick. She had called in and asked them to give homework to Roger Lin to give it to her, but they probably thought she had a hangover and was calling in sick to skip school.

Val realized she was lucky her professors even knew her in the class of 500 or so, but she was at the top of the class and all teachers knew the top students. Not personally, but they at least remembered her last name, which counted in her favor.

She was just reaching for another tissue when Melissa opened the door. Well, judged from the amount of footsteps, there was someone besides Melissa, but that was probably her sister Rachel. 

"Hey, Melissa," Val greeted her, getting up off the couch and walking around the wall separating the living room from the foyer. Well, mini-foyer. "What in the world did you say to—"

Val was cut off by shock as she saw Melissa standing next to the man that had haunted her every thought for five years.

"Tyler," Val gasped.

*

Val had changed, Tyler noticed, but seemingly for the better. Her blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and her nose was red from her cold, but she looked gorgeous to him all the same.

"Tyler," she said, sounding short of breath. Which she was.

"Val."

She had no idea it would hurt this much just to look into Tyler's eyes. He was unprepared, and unguarded, and so emotions that Val had never thought she'd see again were obvious in his blue eyes. Once again she wanted to cry and tell him she had never stopping loving him and that her heart was still broken…

But that was impossible, because then she would let him know she had been helpless for five years and she did not want him to know that. Val Lanier had a sense of pride, and that was what was governing her will at this moment, and her will was strong enough to stop her from falling into his arms.

"How on earth _could_ you, Melissa?" Val asked, feeling betrayed. "How on earth?"

She slowly backed away, shaking her head. Tyler watched her disappear into her room.

_I should have gone after her,_ he said, angry at himself as the door shut. _I should have gone._

_Save me from the silent ocean_

_Drown me in the raging sea_

_I don't quite care where I'm taken_

_Long as you come back to me_

Come back again

_ _

Tyler dropped his bag onto the carpet and crossed to Val's room in long strides. _Too late,_ he sighed as he knocked on the door. _I'm too late._

"Go away, Tyler," came the choked sob. "Go away."

_Fine, Val, I'll go. But I won't leave. I'll never leave—I'll always be right here, ready to hold you. Is that okay? Will you hate me forever for that?_ Miserable thoughts ran through Tyler's mind, but at least they were miserable thoughts that made a vow, strong and silent.

_ _

So take me away 

_Fly me high as you can_

_And no matter what you do_

_Always come back again_

_Come back to me_

_ _

_Fly me high as you can_

_And then come back again_

_Fly me high, high_

_Into the blue sky_

_Fly me high as you can_

_Free in the sweet air_

_Tell me you'll always be there_

_Fly high, high again_


	3. Anywhere But Here

Can You Make It Easier

Can You Make It Easier

_Chapter 3: "Anywhere But Here"_

This was so hard. So hard. _Life was supposed to be fun_, reminisced Val, _not hard_.

But it had been hard, for five years.

The incident had not made her antisocial—she had plenty of good friends and belonged to the prestigious sorority Alpha Chi Omega. But when it came to relationships… well, Val tried to steer clear of those, of her friends' matchmaking plans. They had reminded her too much of Tyler, too much of what was bound to happen if you opened up your heart. And so five years had been lost in the sense of the word; she did not deny it. She had not wanted any relationships, not while Tyler was still around, still in her memory—and in her heart.

Except she could not let Tyler know that, because then he would have won, and he would know it, too. So Val got off her bed, took her head off the tear-stained pillow, and stood tall. Valerie Lanier never gave up.

She changed out of her T-shirt and shorts and brushed her hair. He wouldn't think more of her if she went out like she had just got out of bed. _Which I technically, have, _she reminded herself, but pushed that thought away: it didn't matter.

And so she went out, to face the man who had taken her heart and broken it, but still held it unknowingly in his hands.

Yeah

_How am I supposed to live_

_Get out of here and really live_

_When you're here all the time_

_So_

_Maybe I'm a little rushed_

_Maybe it's not quite enough_

But I just want to live some more

Tyler had opened his laptop and was starting his work—after all, Val might not come out for a while, and he did have to do his job—when Val, surprisingly, emerged from her room. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying and couldn't make the fact invisible, but she had changed her clothes and took out her ponytail.

All in all, it was like seeing a girl that had disappeared from his life five years ago, but in that time she had changed, and it was probably for the better.

But the rush of emotions must not have affected Val, he thought, because she ignored him and went to the kitchen. Tyler had no idea that she was feeling the same hurt and pain and love and everything he was—she just chose to hide it more. Which was easier if she didn't talk to him.

Tyler shook his head at the confused thoughts running through his mind and turned back to his work. He was designing a new cell phone, and had the basics (buttons, mouthpiece, the necessities), but was lacking the punch, the novelty. Which, of course, was what made people buy the phone.

"Val?" he called. Melissa had gone to work, so now he had to ask Val for help. _Why is the world so cruel_? Tyler asked himself, and chose not to contemplate the thought.

"I'm not talking to you," she yelled from the kitchen.

"A little childish, Val," Tyler replied. He didn't think she could hear him, but apparently she had sensitive ears, because she came storming into the room.

"Oh dear," said Tyler under his breath.

"Childish, am I, Tyler? Too bad, okay, too bad, because you know what? You being here has brought me five years into the past, and I can ruddy well NOT DEAL WITH THAT!" The last words screamed from her throat. Tyler stared at her. Something strange ad happened over five years, because this was not Val. No, Val was not like this.

_Or maybe_, he said to himself morosely, _she is, and I missed it. Maybe she's always been like this—or maybe she's changed more than I thought._

Evidently she felt his thoughts, because her eyes looked sad and regretful. Val knew it had happened, and now Tyler did too.

"You've changed," he rasped. "You're different."

"You can't have someone break your heart and then not change," Val told him, eyes gathering tears slowly. "And someone broke my heart, Tyler."

"Who?" Oh, he was scared of the answer, he was so scared.

"You."

Yeah

_Maybe I'm taking it too far_

_Baby making it too hard_

_But you're the one breaking my heart_

So maybe I'm not to blame

The words hung in the air, letting both of them feel the sad truth.

Things had changed.

"I'm going," Val said, breaking the silence suddenly.

"Then I am, too," Tyler replied, closing his laptop and jumping off the couch. Her eyes grew puzzled.

"What do you mean?" She needed to get away from him, not have him follow her. She needed to think, and thinking was easiest when Tyler Connell wasn't around to make your head spin.

"Well, I don't have anything to do, and we need to talk." Tyler was business-like, Val noticed. She was not the only one who had changed.

"We do need to talk," agreed Val. Her words were drawn out slowly.

"So let's go."

Val was helpless as Tyler followed her out the door.

_ _

_It's hard to be here_

_Under your gaze_

_And live, live, live again_

_After so many endless days_

I'd rather be anywhere but here

_Anywhere on earth but here_

Val swung into the driver's seat of her light blue Volkswagen Bug and turned on the ignition in one smooth movement. She loved her car—after all, it was hardly common, even in the City of Angels. Maybe that was why she loved it… though with Tyler Connell in the passenger seat, the beloved mode of transportation was a dreaded form of bringing them ever closer together. A distinct feeling was coursing in her veins that this would not be the frank conversation they had planned. Or maybe that was the adrenaline from being so close to him. Either way, something was coursing in her veins and something was telling her she would not be able to talk to him, not about what the pressing matter really was.

Tyler cast a sidelong glance at Val quickly as she pulled out of her parking space, hands clenching the wheel like it was life support. Her graceful arms were bared by a tank top, and her jeans were the same dark blue as the top. Her sandals were black leather and looked like Melissa's—or at least not Val's. As a matter of fact, her whole outfit was alien to him—he was used to seeing Val in light colors. Actually, he was used to not seeing Val at all, and so maybe that was what made him think.

This wasn't regret, he knew, not regret for falling in love with her, because he was never mad that he fell in love with her, because he liked loving her. He loved loving her. This was more like realization—something had happened over five years. And Tyler knew what it was.

Val had changed.

He had too, probably, but this was Val, and so he noticed her change more than his.

Oh, things were different.

After all these lost years

_You come back and want me to love you_

_But how can you stand here_

And not feel the same way I do

Val's knuckles were turning white from clenching the steering wheel, and so she loosened them, more so that she could drive safely than so her fingers didn't lose circulation. Although she was doing it for both of the reasons, and not for a third—she would not let Tyler think she was warming to him. Val clenched the wheel again.

She didn't hate him, even if that was what she wanted him to think. She loved him, but last time she had let herself love him he had torn her heart into thousands of pieces, and so she would not willingly love him.

_Oh, but isn't that the problem,_ she moaned inwardly. _If I didn't want to love him, then I wouldn't, but I want to love him… I want to so badly, and I would if I didn't know he was going to break my heart again._

And, of course, she would not let him break her heart again.

Case closed.

If only.

This was too hard. She didn't want to be here, didn't want him to get close, and didn't want to look into his eyes and see emotions she thought had been forgotten, feelings that were still there, didn't want to know what she had been missing for five years. But that wouldn't be the worst thing.

The worst thing would be if she saw nothing.

If she saw nothing, it would all be an obsession she had needlessly developed, a useless obsession, not love, because true love was mutual. He would never have really cared for her, and that would break her heart far more than him leaving her had. The flame of hope would die, brutally murdered. Unknowingly killed.

But Val would not let herself dwell on unpleasant thoughts as she pulled into the parking lot of Alpha Chi Omega. The car trip was only five minutes, but had seemed like years.

Five years, to be precise. Five years replayed, violently, harshly, without mercy… and the episode five years ago had tormented them the most.

"What are we doing at your sorority?" questioned Tyler as Val climbed out of the car. He followed suit, waiting for an answer.

"I lent Abby my Walkman a week ago and want it back. Melissa's is horrible. And I let Carrie borrow my shoes…" Val trailed off, mumbling quietly for a moment before walking up the sidewalk to the building.

Tyler supposed it was a nice sorority. The building was white clapboard with a dirt red shingled roof, seemed clean and orderly. But he had had enough experience with fraternities to know that however clean it looked on the outside, the rooms were probably pigsties. The kitchen was probably clean, as was the living room and the rest of the downstairs, but the upstairs…

No, Tyler decided. He wasn't going to stand here and recall the cleanliness—or un-cleanliness—of his frat Epsilon Sigma. He was going to catch up with Val and see what the cleanliness of _her_ sorority was. And so he did.

"Wait up," he called before running up and catching the door before it closed behind her. Val twitched, but not much, and not for a particular reason.

"Hurry up," she commented mildly in response. Tyler rolled his eyes slightly and followed her inside.

They had both changed, Tyler reflected as they came into the main hall.

They had changed.

_Yeah_

_I know you've changed_

_'Cause I have, too_

_But please forgive me_

If I want to love you

Tyler looked around. Man, this was nice. The carpet was light blue, and the stairs that ended in front of him wrapped around into the open and the banisters were polished dark wood. A simple chandelier illuminated the scene.

_All right, so I can't talk anymore_, Tyler admitted, _about what's nice and not, but hey, this is still nice._ Well, at least fifteen million bucks and a billion-dollar company hadn't made him uppity, which was good.

"This way," Val directed him, pulling him into another room with a big TV in front of a wrap-around couch that must've seated eleven people.

"We're watching TV?" Tyler asked. Val rolled her eyes.

"No, we're getting something to eat. This place's food may not constitute the most healthy diet, but it's still good." To a girl on the couch, she said: "Hey, Allison, seen Carrie?"

The girl, in a yellow soccer T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, turned, her dark brown ponytail bounced.

"Val, haven't seen you in, like, a week. Who's the guy?"

Oh, this was not going to be fun, Tyler realized. Nope, not fun at all.

"Tyler, meet Allison. Allison, Tyler." Val's introductions were brief and to the point.

"You look familiar," Allison noted, squinting her blue eyes and angling her head in study of him. "Have I seen—"

Val hastily interrupted her. "Tyler's from out of town."

Allison accepted the excuse and made no further comment on Tyler's identity as she turned back to the 1996 World Cup, taped for home enjoyment. Val looked relieved, then her features contorted as she remembered what she came for.

"Is Carrie here? Or Abby?"

"She went shopping with Dylan an hour or something ago, but your shoes are in her room if you want. And Abby's at class." Allison seemed to think her answer was enough, and satisfactorily turned back to the television again.

"Thanks," Val said, pulling Tyler into the kitchen.

"Could you stop dragging me, please?" Tyler asked, wrenching his arm out of her firm grasp. "I mean, I think my arm's about to fall off. And I thought we were getting your shoes?"

"I'm hungry," was Val's answer. "Ernest, can I have a vanilla Power Bar?"

"What about me?" hissed Tyler as Ernest, a man who looked remarkably like Randolph except for the merry twinkle in his brown eyes and his oversized nose, came around the side of the refrigerator.

"Fine, two vanilla Power Bars," Val sighed. Ernest smiled—another trait that distinguished him from Randolph—and disappeared again.

"You know, he looks like one of my doormen at the office," whispered Tyler, nudging Val. She groaned.

"Would you be quiet?"

"Touchy." This felt like high school again, except they were grown up and apart now, and so it was also different. Tyler would have preferred it if it were more similar than different.

"Two Power Bars." She lowered her voice to Tyler: "Maybe they're long-lost brothers."

"I doubt it," replied Tyler, and looked around the kitchen. Val sighed as Ernest returned with the Power Bars. She took them, thanked him, and dragged Tyler out of the kitchen.

"I asked you to stop that," Tyler reminded her, prying her fingers off his arm. "Thank you."

"Turn," Val directed, pushing Tyler in the direction of the stairs. He somehow managed to run into the wall on his way.

"Ouch!" He rubbed his nose. "A little more gentle, please, Val?"

"Sorry," apologized Val before remembering she didn't like him, she wasn't going to be nice, and she was not going to fall in love with him. No, no, and no. Definitely no. But by the time she had decided that and come back to her senses, he was already up the stairs and she was running to catch up to him.

Time passes quickly

_But I can hear_

_If you whisper in my ear_

_I can tell you right from wrong_

_I promise it won't take too long_

"Do you have an ice pack?" Tyler asked. Val sighed again, but she advocate Tyler's pain, and she certainly didn't want his nose to be broken or anything, so she leaned into a room and spoke to the girl on the floor, doing a poster for Inter-House Party, coming up in a week.

"Lauren, do you have an ice pack?" was her inquiry, and she made it to the right person. Lauren Costa had a mother from Ecuador, a father half French, half Brazilian, and had inherited a love of soccer that rivaled Allison's and had probably caused the majority of her sprains and twists. She usually had an ice pack or two handy, and ACE bandages, and everything else that was needed to keep the hurt limb stable. Val had been the in-house doctor with Becky Garret's set of bandages, and now Mallory Keats, a sophomore studying med, took care of everyone's twisted ankles that were acquired in their five-inch heels. It worked out nicely, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Lauren had an ice pack and directed Val to the closet and told her to mix the chemicals by squeezing the package.

"Here," Val told Tyler, shaking the plastic package and handing it to him. "Do you need to sit down?"

Tyler wondered what had happened, because a minute ago Val was being cold and now—she was worried about his nose. Strange, but he rather liked the change.

"I don't think so," he replied, returning from his thoughts to the question at hand.

Nevertheless, Val pulled him into an empty room and pushed him onto a chair.

"Head back," she ordered, taking off the ice pack. Oh, he knew what she was doing and he knew his nose wasn't broken—he had been an EMT, after all—but he didn't try to stop her. Her fingers ran up and down his nose, checking for gaps or pain. "You're okay," Val told Tyler, reapplying the ice pack. "Just keep your head back and the ice pack on."

She was trying very hard not to concentrate on Tyler's eyes, or his face, or how close he was to her, or how very _much _she wanted to kiss him… and how her lips were practically right on his, readying her for the nearing k—

Of course, Kara Galloway chose that moment to walk through the door. Predictable, as the room belonged to the short blonde, but it surprised the both of them. In her haste backing away from Tyler, Val accidentally slammed the ice pack into his nose and skidded on a T-shirt on the floor, slipping and falling onto the wooden floor.

"Ouch," they moaned in unison. Kara had a heavily amused look in her eye as she stood there in a leotard, feet in perfect fifth position, as graceful as was natural for a performing arts major, specializing in ballet and jazz. And so it made for an interesting scene, Val on the floor, reddening quickly, Tyler in the chair, rubbing his nose and checking to see if Val had broken it, and the ever-graceful Kara in the doorway, calm and collected.

"You're not supposed to have boys upstairs," Kara calmly reminded Val. "Mrs. Murdock doesn't like it."

"Well," Val began, standing up, "the house rules say past six fifteen no boys, and the house rules only apply to people living at the house."

"You're just lucky it's Alpha Chi," pointed out Kara. "The Tri-Delts have different rules. Just think if you had gone there." She crossed the room and opened a drawer, rummaging for leg warmers.

"Yeah, well, Monica Ota didn't like me much anyway," said Val. She sat down on the bed. "Is your nose all right?" The comment was of course directed to Tyler, because Kara's nose was perfectly straight and classic, centered on her Ivory commercial-worthy complexion.

"Are you coming to the Inter-House Party?" Tyler inquired of Kara. Both Kara and Val stared at him. He shrugged under the gaze. "I saw Lauren making posters. It's next Friday, right?"

"Can't," Kara answered. "I've got a rehearsal from six until eight, then I think Kevin's taking me out to dinner."

"Tell Kevin to take you to the party. Remember, we're celebrating Dana's twenty-first birthday? Come on, it doesn't matter if you wear your leotard or whatever, just come!"

Tyler decided he was glad he had never had any sisters. It would have been annoying if they acted like this. Well, he didn't mind Val, and Kara didn't seem gossipy, but either way, it was awkward.

"I'll think about it," said Kara, locating her cream-colored leg warmers and pulling them on. She grabbed her pointe shoes from their hook on the wall and tested the inside with her fingers. "I'll need more lamb's wool, soon. My arabesque in the recital isn't as high as it normally is. Madame Yaupon isn't pleased." She paused in the doorway after a few steps. "And Val? Don't tell Dana you know Tyler Connell? She'll go absolutely maniac."

Kara danced out of the room, leaving Val and Tyler awkward in the midst. The long silence was interrupted a moment later by Val's sneeze.

"Tissue?" Tyler asked helpfully, grabbing one from the box on the dresser. Val hesitated, then took it and blew her nose.

"Let's go," she suggested, standing up. "Lauren won't mind if you take the ice pack."

"Coming." Tyler stood and followed her out the door.

_Oh_

_No longer close,_

_No longer near_

_Standing by your side_

_I'd rather be anywhere but here_

_ _

_Yeah_

_No longer close_

_We're no longer near_

_I'd rather be_

_Anywhere at all but here_

_ _

_Anywhere but here_

**A/N: Yes, I write these horrible, horrible songs. I'm an uncreative idiot, it seems, but hey, at least this part was seven pages long. Tyler and Val belong to Disney Channel or whoever, and yup, as I mentioned, the messed-up song belongs to me. As does the plot.**

**So… in upcoming chapters: Two parties, both unalike in formality (he, he, a bit o' Romeo and Juliet for you) lead to unexpected compromises, but compromises can lead to difficulty. Trust is the foundation of a relationship, but once someone's broken your heart, it's a little hard to trust them as much as you could before…**


	4. Come Away, Come Away

Can You Make It Easier

_ _

Can You Make It Easier

_ _

_Chapter 4: "Come Away, Come Away"_

** **

**June 15, 2003**

The parking lot was hot under the summer sun—June, Val decided, was no picnic when there hadn't been any rain for three days, there was a heat wave going around the county, and the local swimming pool was being pumped. She had had it easy, because Tyler's country club had a swimming pool and he invited her over whenever she wanted, but still… Speaking of Tyler, he had wanted to meet her here—but where was he?

Val sat down on a bench situated in a garden in a park at the edge of the parking lot and looked around, waiting. They would be celebrating their two year and two month anniversary next week. They hadn't been able to celebrate their two year or two year and one month anniversaries properly since Tyler had gone on a student exchange for six weeks, but now it was June and they could actually celebrate. Both thought it was a nice achievement, considering that two years was half of their high school life and they had no intention of ending their relationship. Val had chosen University of Illinois over UCLA, since Tyler wanted to major in computer science and technology at UI… even if UI didn't have a strong medical program at all. Val still hadn't decided completely—she could go to Michigan and still be close to him.

_Maybe I should talk to him about that today, _she said to herself. _I mean, I'm already delayed in giving them my answer._

"Hey."

She hadn't even noticed him come up behind her, and she jumped, but didn't turn—Val knew his voice.

"You startled me," she said unnecessarily as he sat down next to her.

"Sorry I'm late," apologized Tyler, "there was a jam up by Ninth."

"It's okay," responded Val, kissing him and leaning into his chest. "You weren't too late."

"Good." He let his arm fall around her shoulder as he breathed in the flowers and sunshine. "It's so gorgeous out."

Val's eyes sparked merrily and she laughed. Tyler immediately looked at her and tensed slightly.

"What'd I do?"

"Nothing." Val stopped giggling, with apparent difficulty. "You just sounded… strange."

"And that's an excuse to laugh at me?" By this time Tyler's eyes were laughing as well. "Some girlfriend you are!"

"Oh, come on," Val said, "you know you love me."

"Yeah. I do." Tyler kissed her, and once their lips had parted they stayed like that for a moment, letting thoughts take over silently.

"What did you want to tell me?" Val inquired, shattering the quiet.

"You first." Tyler could sense she had something to say, and that it was important. Val took a deep breath.

"Well, I'm sending in letters to my colleges tomorrow and I want to make sure I get a chance to talk to you first."

"Where are you going?" Tyler questioned, knowing he couldn't take it for a given she was going to UI. "Have you decided?"

"That's the issue," Val replied. "I haven't decided between UI or Michigan or UCLA."

"UCLA is far away," commented Tyler. "But it does have a great medical department."

"Yes." Val didn't know if she could discuss this without some reaction from either herself, Tyler, or both of them. It was a sensitive subject—in different colleges and states, they might grow further apart than they thought they could. "But you are going to UI. Michigan is close to UI, and UI is even closer to you."

Tyler sighed and leaned more into the back of the bench. A piece of wood, but it was absorbing his emotions like a sponge.

"Look, Val, you know UI doesn't have a good medical department. Maybe—you shouldn't go there."

The hurt in her eyes was obvious—he hadn't chosen his words well.

"You don't want me to go to UI with you?" she asked softly, her voice a whisper etched with pain and disbelief.

"No! I want you to go! But… maybe it's not what you want."

"How do you know exactly what I want?" Val asked. Tyler winced. She hadn't chosen her words carefully, either.

"No, Val—look, all I'm saying is, we're in high school. Next year, college. We're growing up, and we can't help it. I don't want to force you to make decisions that you have to make. I don't want to be a burden, and… I want you to be your own person. So… maybe we have to think a little. About what we really, really want."

Val inhaled sharply.

"Is this goodbye?" she asked, eyes questioning.

"No!" Tyler was insistent—how was he supposed to lose Val over something that hadn't even been meant that way?

"Thanks for ending it now—it's better than later, when I actually might have died of heartbreak." Val's throat forced out the words. No, she didn't want to have it now than later! She wanted to enjoy it while she could.

"But, Val, I don't want to—"

"Guess that it's too late, huh?" The words were bitter, and her look of hurt made it all the more painful. Tyler tried to figure out what was in her eyes, and what she wanted. "Look, Tyler, I don't want to be a burden either. So goodbye." She stood from the bench… and Tyler could to nothing but watch as she took steps away from him and away from all he was trying to tell her, away as she broke his heart and as he broke hers. 

Away.

Why it so hard to walk away?

_Why do I have to cry?_

_Why did I fall in love with you;_

_Why do I have to die?_

_ _

_Fly away, fly away_

_But why are you flying?_

_Come away, come away_

_But how did I hurt you?_

_Walk away, walk away,_

_Do you obey my every call?_

_When I left, did you fall?_

_Did you fall?_

And so five long years had passed. Val had cried that night, and Tyler's face had also been stained with tears. Five long years… Val went to UCLA, Tyler went to UI and moved to San Francisco to start Connell Cellular. Val was top of her class and was an assistant doctor-in-training at the local hospital.

And until a psychology major by the name of Melissa Daniels interrupted, neither of them were completely happy…

_Are your wings gone?_

_Did you fly in the night?_

_Some say I'm wrong—_

_Are they really that right?_

_Should I start my life—_

_Only to die?_

_I want to ask so many questions—_

_And I want to know why_

_ _

_Fly away, fly away_

_But why are you flying?_

_Come away, come away_

_But how did I hurt you?_

_Walk away, walk away,_

_Do you obey my every call?_

_When I left, did you fall?_

_Did you fall?_

_ _

Hmm, maybe I should have titled it 'Did You Fall?' instead, but hey, the song was spontaneous combustion of my mind. No, it doesn't rhyme, but I was visiting my school for next year today and they were discussing poetry—so I started thinking about free verse and voila, a song. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed reading!

~Ivy Leaves

PS – Thanks everyone who reviewed For The Gold for telling me age didn't matter. I'm honored you think I'm a good writer, and Darkchilde, about third person omnipresent—I have no idea where I learned that. Maybe the free poetry book I got after going to state for my poetry in a writing contest. (Okay, that was a shameless fishing for compliments.) For a while I just called it 'third person with lots of characters,' so it's not THAT great that I know it. Bye!


	5. 

Can You Make It Easier

Can You Make It Easier

Chapter 5: "Too Many Maybes"

Thursday [six days later]

_ _

_He walked away from me_

_One sweet summer day_

_And nothing's ever been the same_

_I can't help it anyway_

_ _

"You're making it too hard," Melissa greeted Val, leaning on the door frame of Val's room, her brown hair up in a high ponytail from work and her gray eyes serious and not playful as they normally were. She was still dressed in her light blue cotton pants and white shirt from the hospital—she was a junior psychologist—but managed to look as imposing as she usually did… even though she was two inches shorter than Val.

Val looked up from her homework, blue eyes troubled.

"For whom?"

"Tyler." Melissa walked like a cat, sleek and full of potential electricity, into the room. Val let out a breath of air, sighing.

"I don't care."

Melissa bit her lip and kept her temper cooled. Yes, her temper was fiery and excitable, though she wasn't angered easily, just provoked. And it provoked her very much to see two people who were perfect for each other pretend they hated each other.

"Look, you guys need to get a grip on reality," said Melissa. "This charade has lasted long enough."

"Melissa, maybe this_ is _the real thing! Maybe I've lost him and maybe he doesn't care and maybe the only reason he came back is to watch me bleed and hope we can_ still be friends!_ Maybe he just wants to say goodbye in person and maybe I don't care anymore and maybe I don't love him and maybe"—Val's voice broke as she tried to stop the tears—"maybe I'm wrong and maybe there's no hope and maybe I'm still madly in love with him… and maybe he'll leave… and maybe I'll be alone… and maybe this is too many maybes to know what I'm going to do with my life and how I'm going to deal with him." She lost composure completely and burst into angry sobs. "And so—maybe—I should give up."

"No!" Melissa's answer was immediate and definite and left no doubt she knew what was going to happen, what had to happen, and Val should devote herself to accomplishing that. "Val, you guys are far too in love with each other to give up! You can dye your hair purple and get your nose pierced and run down State Street in a Big Bird costume, but for God's sake,_ don't _think it's over if you haven't even begun again! Let him die, break his bloody_ heart, _but you are going to break your own in the process and you_ know _that! Don't let it happen, Val, don't let it happen!"

Silver tears ran, unaltered, untouched, down Val's cheek and fell to the bedspread and her shirt and melted into the cloth, weaving itself into the fibers, disappearing.

Except nothing ever disappears.

Val wiped the tears from her cheeks with brutal fingers and wrung her hand, sending the droplets flying.

But one slowly clung to her fingertip, and she watched it as it slowly melted into her skin.

"I don't know anymore, Melissa," Val said, eyes still on her fingers as they relaxed, "and you know I don't. I'm so confused, and I want to not care, so badly, but I do care, and I would rather kill myself than purposely break his heart. It's like there's some candle in me that keeps burning, because there's that much hope left, but I swear, Melissa, soon there's not going to be any hope left because he's going to leave and he's going to break my ruddy heart."

Melissa's smoky gray eyes were trained on Val, and she was so utterly serious, so definitely meaning when she said precious few words:

"Only if you let him leave."

She didn't explain herself, didn't answer Val's questioning gaze, didn't say anything but leave the room and leave Val alone with her jumbled thoughts, her jumbled, jumbled thoughts.

_They promised I would be okay,_

_They said it'd all turn out right_

_But there's always another maybe_

_And that's why I can't sleep at night_
    
    _ _
    
    __Her footsteps roused him from a half-doze, and he sat up and looked at her through suddenly awake eyes for five forty-five in the morning.
    
    "Where are you going?" Tyler asked, his voice only partly marred with sleep and drowsiness, the rest alert and interested.
    
    "Out," Val said, divulging nothing in a monotone voice.
    
    "But where?"
    
    "Out."
    
    She slipped the earphones to the Walkman into her ears and walked out the door.
    
    Why did songs have to be so meaningful, Val wondered as she pressed the down button, listening to the easy music roll over her ears.
    
    _"Harder to say goodbye_
    
    _Than it was to say hello_
    
    _You disappeared over all these years_
    
    _And I didn't know where to go…"_
    
    She changed the station, wanting to get Tyler off her mind as she went out for a morning jog. No luck.
    
    _"My heart is broken_
    
    _Broken_
    
    _Broken_
    
    _My heart is broken_
    
    _Broken_
    
    _Broken_
    
    _My heart is broken_
    
    _So broken_
    
    _I want you to break it_
    
    _So I can live again_
    
    _My heart is broken_
    
    _Broken_
    
    _So broke—"_
    
    __
    
    Val switched off the radio and listened to Melissa's tape. At least this time it wasn't about someone's heart being broken—she was listening to Melissa's new tape, a mix of songs by lesser-known singers.
    
    _I wonder if there's a reason why it was set to that song, _Val mused as the song ended and she stepped off the elevator, _'cause I thought she didn't like the singer._
    
    Going out the front door on her way across the street to the gym, she froze when she realized that this song was exactly like all the others…
    
    _ _
    
    _Maybe you broke my heart_
    
    _Maybe I let you_
    
    _Maybe this was never real_
    
    _Maybe this was never true_
    
    __

Val angrily switched off the Walkman and headed back to her apartment. So she'd miss one morning jog. Big deal. The main problem was realizing Tyler was there and what she was supposed to do about it. _And admitting you still love him, _her annoying inner voice pointed out. Val pushed it away—too many questions, not enough answers, and no time to find them out.

*

"Has anyone seen my shoe?"

5:15 pm Thursday night, and Val was panicking. Tyler shifted on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knee and drew a silvery blue sandal from under the cushion.

"Here."

Val stomped into the room with the other shoe on her foot and grabbed it from Tyler, muttering something that sounded like "hate the banquet… don't want to go… important to career…_ Rodney…_" mingled with a couple swears. Tyler's eyes were amused as he looked at her.

"Bad day?" he asked innocently. Val scowled and attempted to pull on her shoe.

The door opened and Melissa walked in. Val promptly fell over trying to tug on the other shoe and landed unhappily on the carpet with her shoe half on and an unsatisfied look on her face.

Melissa cracked up and Tyler looked back at his computer, trying to hold the laugh in. Val cast another scowl at Melissa and stood up, heading for her room.

"Where's she going?" Tyler inquired. Melissa looked at him, puzzled. Had this intelligent man suddenly turned into an idiot?

"To her room," said Melissa. Tyler sighed.

"No, I meant tonight, where's she going?"

"Oh. Some big thing the hospital's president is holding. He's the grandson of the founder, it's black tie and if she goes, it'll boost her career at the hospital significantly." Melissa went into the kitchen and Tyler called after her with the dreaded question:

"Who's she going with?"

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, and Melissa didn't respond as she got a Coke out the refrigerator.

"A friend from her classes."

"A friend?" Tyler hoped Melissa was telling the truth—but Val had never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, had she?

"Tyler," Melissa said as she came into the room again, "Val has never once had any type of a relationship for five years, and she's not starting now, not when you're around, not when her heart's still broken."

Tyler couldn't breathe—this information was suffocating him, threatening to let loose and explode him if he didn't keep control, if he didn't know exactly what he was doing and what was happening and what was going on.

The phone rang, breaking his thoughts and interrupting the conversation.

Tyler was nearest the phone, but he was frozen, as Melissa's gray eyes noted, so she crossed the room and picked it up.

"Hello?… Just a minute, please." Melissa covered the mouthpiece and yelled, "VAL! PHONE!"

It took hardly any time at all for Val to pick up the phone, and Tyler tried very hard not to make eye contact, not to have to explain the feelings he knew were bared in his eyes for the world to see, revealed by Melissa's well chosen words.

"Hello?" Val asked politely. "Oh, hi, Rod, what is it?" Tyler heard Rodney's words echo from the phone and instantly pitied the man who would feel Val's wrath: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T MAKE IT?" she yelled. "This is important!… Who cares if you have the flu?… So what? Use crutches! Do you know what this is going to look like? First of all, you're not even going to be there, which will totally destroy your career, and then I won't have a date, and I'll look pathetic, and it'll destroy my career, and—what?… No possible way! Not after this!… No, not ever! Bye!" Val slammed the phone down and yelled at the nearest living object.

Who was Tyler.

"What are you looking at?" she asked. He shrunk back a bit and looked at his computer.

"My job."

Val sighed and calmed herself slightly, but her feathers were again ruffled when Melissa cut in:

"What'd he say?" Melissa asked, interested.

"He can't_ make _it! He has the flu and sprained his ankle, so he has to stay home—then he wanted to know if I wanted to go out with him—and_ now _what am I going to do? I mean, Josh is busy and Tommy is in Indiana…" Val started listing her cousins and friends and pointing out why they couldn't make it. "…So _now _what am I supposed to do?"

Melissa cleared her throat. Val looked up from her ranting.

"I have an idea…" said Melissa slowly, dragging it out. Tyler squirmed uncomfortably—he didn't like that look in her eyes…

"What?" Val was equally suspicious.

"Go with Tyler."

"Excuse me?"

"Look at it from Mr. Ito's point of view, okay? This pretty medical student who's already working at the hospital in her free time and is top of her class at UCLA comes in on the arm of a famous, handsome cell phone tycoon. What would_ you _think?"

The proposition was made, and Val was contemplating it, tapping her finger on her chin and looking at Tyler as if she was sizing him up.

"Oh, fine," she sighed, exasperated. "Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"

Tyler nodded, his head acting on it's own, and watched as she walked back into her room.

"Okay," he said slowly, "what in the world just happened?"

Melissa looked positively gleeful. "I just got you a date with Val!"

Tyler just sat there, in a daze, trying to figure what had happened and what was going to happen in the next four or five hours… Meanwhile, Melissa was planning.

"Call Hank, tell him to bring his tux and get over here in the next ten minutes!" Melissa said in a rush. Tyler shook himself awake and dialed Hank's number.

"Hank, I've got a date with Val and forgot to bring a tux…"

Hank was on his way.

_ _

They promised my heart would never break 

_I should have asked for a receipt_

_I should have done a double take_

_'Cause I can hear my broken heart beat_

_ _

Tyler waited for Val to come out. It was five to six and the—banquet, he supposed it was called—started at six fifteen.

The door opened. Tyler waited.

And maybe in the meantime he should have taken a breath of air, because once more his head was plunged underwater, his breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't stop to think or know how to react—

She was absolutely gorgeous.

Her blond hair was wound up behind her head with loose golden curls haphazardly falling into her clear blue eyes and across her cheek. The dress was light blue with silvery beads sewn into the fabric, causing it to sparkle as the ends short, blue bead fringe fell two or three inches above her knee, giving him full view of long, tanned legs. The straps were thin and beaded and looked like they had no work, like the dress itself was fitted perfectly to Val's body (which, in Tyler's opinion, it was) and the straps were utterly un-necessary, except to bare her shoulders and arms to the world and his needy eyes.

Val squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Let's go," she suggested to drag his mind off her and to drag her mind off him.

Tyler stood and followed her out the door, closing it behind him with a silent pull, letting it slide neatly into place.

*

"What is_ that?"_ Val asked simply, pointing at the black limousine parked in front of the apartment building door. Something told her it was not waiting for one of the other occupants of the building.

"Well," Tyler said, "I thought it would be a good idea to arrive in class. Seeing as you want to make a good impression and all." 

Perhaps he shouldn't have chosen those words, because Val was suddenly angry.

"I_ don't _need you to make a good impression for me! I can do it myself, okay? I don't care if you thought_ William _was butting in during high school, but you're the one butting in now! So just leave me alone because I don't_ care _anymore, Tyler! Maybe I don't need you anymore!"

"You never needed me, Val," Tyler pointed out quietly. "You always managed fine yourself."

Val's eyes were wide and confused, and she didn't respond to his inquisitive look.

"I don't need you now, either," she said, "so just let me climb into the car, take me to the banquet, come back, and then walk out, Tyler. Walk out of my life. After all," Val told him, choking on the words as tears threatened to bloom in her eyes, "you seem to have had enough practice with that already."

Tyler didn't answer.

Val climbed into the car, a single tear preceding the others and warning her running slowly down her cheek. Tyler entered after her and he didn't invade her personal space, either, because Val had moved to the other side and looked like she really didn't want to do this anymore.

"Kingsley Manor," Tyler told the driver in an emotionless voice. Val looked at him through teary eyes as the car pulled from the curb, and the expression she met was anything but revealing.__
    
    _ _
    
    ___Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm right_
    
    _Maybe there's a reason I can't sleep at night_
    
    _Maybe I lost, maybe I won_

_Playing maybe isn't any fun_

_ _

They were almost there.

"Val?" Tyler asked tentatively, breaking the tensed silence that had interrupted the entire ride.

"Yeah?" Val's voice was soft and unsure.

"Just—don't act cold to me."

"Cold?" Val echoed, puzzled. "Why cold?"

"Because—you've been cold the entire time I've been in LA," Tyler commented quietly, his voice a low whisper that carried through the air that was quickly becoming charged with dry electricity.

"I can't help it, Tyler," Val said, trying not to cry once more, "I can't help it. You just turned up after five years and I'm so lost and my heart is so broken and—Tyler, I still—I mean, I can't have stopped—Tyler, I still lo—"

Her confession was cut short by the car pulling to a halt.

Val's eyes closed momentarily and when they opened, the tears were gone and the emotions had disappeared.

Except nothing ever disappears.

And so Val was left with her impossible feelings and confusion… too much confusion… far too much confusion.

*

The wooden doors were propped open by silver doorstops and looked into a huge ballroom, with French windows that opened onto terraces and balconies, looking over a well-kept garden.

"I never would have thought they had something like this so close to Los Angeles," Tyler commented in a whisper, his voice containing no awe but a certain amount of curiosity with its question already answered.

"It's near the suburbs," Val replied, her fingers gripping his arm as they entered. Oh, she was nervous, even if she tried to hide it.

The room went silent. 

Tyler Connell was not an unremarkable person—his face was remembered, especially since it had been plastered on several magazine covers, and not just Forbes and other computer magazines. And then there was the whole issue with the Time article and Isabelle Lerini…

The man excused himself from his discussion partner and crossed the room.

He was stocky, with black hair lightly streaked with gray, revealing that he was in his early sixties. The French cuffs of his shirt were fastened with red diamond cufflinks and edged out exactly an inch from his black suit. He might have seemed intimidating were it not for his friendly smile and wire-rimmed glasses that caused him the appearance of an old, wise man.

"Valerie Lanier, I presume." It was a comment, not a question—of course she was Valerie Lanier. Only one person could be Valerie Lanier. "Edward Ito. And you," he said, directing it to Tyler, "look amazingly similar to Tyler Connell."

"That's me," agreed Tyler with a grin, outstretching his hand. "In the flesh."

"Very honored to meet you, Mr. Connell. And Valerie—I am very honored to meet you, as well. I hear you have straight A's in your medical classes?" His smile grew bigger as his dark eyes invited her to answer.

"Yes," said Val. "Except I do have a B+ in my chemistry class."

"Well, at least you're rounding out your classes," Mr. Ito said, "and a B+ is still very good in chemistry. I was never excellent at history, myself, but I managed to get myself far enough in life. Mr. Connell, I suppose you got good grades in college? And where did you go?" Of course Ito knew where he went—it was advertised enough.

"Relatively good, relatively good," Tyler told him, knowing that overshadowing Val would do no good for either him or her, "but I got a B in English. I went to U of I, by the way."

"Very good as well, then," commented Mr. Ito. "And you have known Valerie a long time?"

"Since high school," Tyler said. He didn't venture into the unknown territory of saying they had dated. "We were on the same EMS squad in Kingsport."

"So you both have some experience with emergency medicine, yes?" He was interested, his curiosity piqued, wanting to know more.

"Yes," Val answered.

"But Val is better than me—I haven't done it for five or six years," explained Tyler, smile still on his face. Mr. Ito looked at Val approvingly.

"Good, good, very good. Well, we will be eating dinner in about fifteen minutes, so be patient while we wait for others. Socialize, if you please. Dinner will be a well-sized meal, three courses and dessert. But small courses, if you please, and you shouldn't be too full. Please excuse me—I see Mr. Russ and I simply_ must _speak to him…" Mr. Ito trailed off and walked over to a portly man standing by the doorway expectantly.

"Thank you," whispered Val. "Thank you for doing that."

"Doing what?" Tyler looked at her innocently.

"Telling him about your B—tearing down your reputation for my career."

"I'd do it again," Tyler informed her in a quiet voice. Val's eyes started to brim with tears—but they would not spill over, not now, not in front of everyone… not in front of Tyler. Tyler's finger gently wiped away the tears, making sure no one saw Val was crying.

"Tyler Connell?"

The finger tapping his shoulder spun him around in surprise, and he was left facing a woman in her thirties with a low-cut red dress adorned with black beads. Her eyes were heavily made up in blue, outlining blue-brown eyes that contrasted platinum blond hair that was pulled into a shiny bun.

"Yes?"

"It_ is _you, then? Amazing! I'm Nathalie Green, and my sister Cornelia is simply_ dying _to meet you! She's only nineteen, you know—but she's very technology-driven and my, does she admire you…"

Val felt a slight surge of jealousy and spite towards Nathalie, but Tyler would never like her at all. She wasn't his type, and, _besides,_ Val thought hopefully_, maybe he's still in love with me… but then, I haven't exactly been encouraging him to love me, have I? So maybe he feels free to like others… but then—he hasn't shown any interest in others—and Melissa said his heart was broken, too—oh, God, I'm making this hard for myself. And for him. _The reality of what she had just said hit her._ God. Melissa was right._

And she turned and walked towards someone she knew from the hospital—her head was spinning and her mind had no idea what she was going to do—how she was going to take back her words.

_ _

Maybe I was wrong, maybe I was right 

_This is so hard and I can't sleep at night_

_I'm finished; I'm done_

_I've lost, haven't won_

_Playing with all these maybes is just no fun_

_ _

Tyler watched Val from the corner of his eye as he stood talking to the Platinum Princess Nathalie. Oh, she was nice, but a very large part of him wished he was talking to Val… wished Val felt the same way he did.

But she had said that her heart was broken! Surely that had to mean something. And even though she was cut off in the middle of her sentence, she had probably been saying 'love'… right? Confusing. Tyler turned his attention back to Nathalie.

"And so I said to my father, 'don't buy_ his _phones, there isn't any_ point _in it, buy Connell phones because they're nicer and don't cost as much to maintain and…'"

"Excuse me, it's dinner," interrupted a waiter. "Please be seated."

Tyler sighed with relief and left to find Val.

"Sit next to me," he said into her ear. She flinched slightly with surprise, but nodded, a curl falling from behind her ear into her face. Tyler reached out and brushed it back, but before her gaze had turned to him with puzzlement written on its features, he had dropped his hand and led her to a white-clothed table.

They were next to four others—two couples—that consisted of a Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton and an Amy Richards and a Todd Rainelle, but Tyler couldn't concentrate on the discussions he was having with them, couldn't recall them for his life if you had asked later. He supposed his answers were simple enough, and understandable, but sitting next to Val, he was absorbed in her presence and that detracted attention from the others.

"And so I told my mother, 'No way! Not possible!' and she said…" Mrs. Halliburton was almost as bad as Nathalie. Tyler was about to start talking to Todd and completely forego pretense of listening to her when Mr. Ito stood up, tapped his glass twice with his spoon, and began talking.

And when the host talked, people listened.

"I am very pleased to announce the annual banquet for the Los Angeles hospital, and to mention that we have Tyler Connell here on the arm of Valerie Lanier, top of her class at UCLA. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton are also here, the donors of a large amount of money to help in the Psychology department, and Frederick Wendell, and…" Mr. Ito branched off into a long list of names, and Tyler tuned out, listening with one ear and hearing, but thinking more about how Val had just kicked her leg under the table and it had touched his.

_Idiot, _he reprimanded himself._ You idiot. Val's over you, remember? She's over you and now the only thing to do is make sure you're over her… _

But Tyler had a feeling he would never be over Val.

Feelings don't disappear.

Tyler sighed with relief as Mr. Ito signaled the end of dinner and waiters came to clear the dishes and bare the white tablecloths. An orchestra struck up out of seemingly empty space, and the black-and-white marble tiled floor was suddenly very good for dancing. About half of the people sat at their tables still, dishes cleared but sipping coffee.

Val took a sip of her coffee, but then replaced it on the table, untouched as the steam gently rose. Tyler's coffee was sitting on the table also—he didn't want it, and no one would dare tell Tyler Connell it was impolite to not sample the host's food. Tyler Connell knew rules of etiquette, and it would lower Mr. Ito's expectations none to see him not drinking.

"Care to dance?" asked Tyler, standing and offering his hand in a mocking way, a smile in his eyes and threatening to tear away at his mouth.

"I—I—," said Val with a stutter, knowing eyes were on her. She smiled weakly. "I'd love to."

He drew her up as was appropriate and placed his hands lightly on her back, weaving his arms around her waist, and before she knew it, her arms were around his neck and her head was involuntarily on his shoulder. The orchestra's jolly minuet magically turned to a slower tempo and Val was forced to stand there, pressed against Tyler like he was her life vest and she was drowning in a tidal wave of emotions.

But then again, she didn't want to part from his arms.

_"And if I forgot, would you remind me that everything's okay, and if I wasn't sure would you make it certain I lasted another day, and if maybes never counted do you promise I'd be all right, and maybe I don't trust you but I can't help standing here all night…" _Tyler's voice breathed at her ear in the same tune that she had heard that morning on the radio.

"Stop it, Tyler," she said in a sobbing voice as a tear fell onto his jacket. "I don't want to be here, and I don't want to break when you leave, and I don't want to ask myself if maybes are all I can have."

"What if I never left?" he inquired softly. "What if I got rid of all the maybes?"

"You can't," whispered Val, "there are too many. Too many maybes."

Tyler nodded in a resigned way, but didn't leave her until that dance, the next dance, and two more dances were over and she wanted a glass of water.

"I wish there were less maybes," Val said quietly before she unwound herself from him.

"Yes," answered Tyler, "but then it would be far too easy for me."

_ _

Don't you know there are too many maybes 

_Far too many maybes_

_And even if I had a genuine guarantee_

_The maybes never cease_

_Oh… too many maybes_

_ _
    
    _Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm right_
    
    _Maybe there's a reason I can't sleep at night_
    
    _Maybe I lost, maybe I won_

_Playing maybe isn't any fun_

_ _

** **

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**Wow. Ten pages. I'm devoted to my writing. Now, please, tell me that I didn't work this hard for nothing and review! Currently I have an average of 6.5 reviews per chapter… let's try for 7, or 7.5, or even *gasp* EIGHT!!! Or—I'll do a CLIFFHANGER next chapter! Or maybe next chapter is the last. Probably not, if I do an epilogue. Okay, then I won't add another chapter for a while! *insert evil cackle here* Well, please review anyway and I'll try to get the next chapter out! Bye!**

** **

**~Ivy Leaves**

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** **


	6. And I'm Allowed To Fall

Can You Make It Easier

Can You Make It Easier

Chapter 6: "And I'm Allowed To Fall"__

_ _

_There are those who can leave love or take it_

_Love to them is just what they make it_

_I wish that I were just the same_

_But love is my favorite game_

_ _

Thump.

Ouch.

Tyler had fallen off the chair. He struggled to get up and instead got tangled in the flannel blanket. Frowning heavily, he looked at the clock and the numbers glowing green in the darkness: 2:48.

His eyes wandered over to the chair opposite him.

Val.

She had fallen asleep in the chair when they got home at 1:22. Tyler guessed—correctly—that she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

He sighed and realized that she would get a cramp, curled up in the chair with her blond hair falling onto her dress and shoulders. Tyler didn't want her to get a cramp, and he knew he'd never sleep, not in this armchair across from Val.

There was only one thing to do.

"Val?" he asked, prematurely wincing. After ten seconds of waiting for her annoyed yell, he looked up. She was still sleeping.

"Hello? Val?" Nothing.

Tyler sighed again, untangled himself from the blanket attacking him, and stood up. He gently picked her up, letting her fall in his arms and hoping she wasn't awake, and began to walk towards her room.

She shifted.

Tyler looked down in despair, knowing all of LA would hear her if she woke up and found herself in his arms. But luckily for his ears—and him, he supposed later, she simply snuggled into his chest and fell asleep. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the top of her head and stand there all night, but Val wouldn't like that.

Or would she?

Their conversation had heightened Tyler's hopes of finding her again greatly, but the distance had only been closed an inch compared to what there was left to do. And she was right—she wasn't making it easy.__

_But if it were that easy, _thought Tyler,_ would I love her as much as I do?_

__Yes, of course he would. Or maybe not.__

_Another maybe, Val, _he said with a smile,_ another maybe. You were so right… too many maybes. Too hard. But—am I supposed to give up? If I give up, it's over. Do you want it to be over? Do you want your heart to stay broken? Or… would I break it more if I loved you?_

__He didn't want to break her heart, certainly, but he didn't want to break his, either. Hers was more important—far more important. So he was prepared to leave if she asked him to, prepared to pack his bags and escape from her life.

But she hadn't asked him to yet.

Tyler started walking towards her bedroom again, and the time was far too short, because soon he had carefully put her down. But he didn't walk away. It was too hard to walk away from her skin lit by the moonlight coming from her window, her lips that were curved in a smile of dreams, her body perfectly positioned to let the beads on her dress sparkle and make her surreal.

"Can you make it easier, Val?" he asked with a tear rolling down his cheek, smiling through the pain. "Can you make it easier? Because I'll get rid of all the maybes if you want me to. I don't care if it takes the rest of my life—and yours—because, God, Val, I'd do absolutely anything for you. Absolutely anything. I'll walk away, I'll let you live, I'll set you free and let my heart break as long as it makes you happy. I love you. I'm always going to."

His moving monologue was finished, his feelings exposed—now if the air would fill the wounds with salt and let him cry the pain out, it would all be okay.

He exited, stage left, and turned back to close the door behind him…

And saw the moon light a tear he hadn't seen before that was coursing down her cheek.__

_ _

_I fall in love too easily_

_I fall in love too fast_

_I fall in love too terribly hard_

_For love to ever last_

_ _

__"Okay, Tyler, I need you."

Tyler looked up in surprise. It was six thirty on a Friday night, what could Val possibly need him for?

"Excuse me?"

"I need your help," clarified Val.

"Yeah, for what?" Tyler asked, hoping this wasn't another Melissa Daniels special plan.

"Okay, well, there's this party…" Val walked into her room and closed the door, but continued yelling out her explanation to Tyler. "…and it's the Inter-House Party, right? Well, we're also having a surprise party for Dana, and Dana has a crush on you…"

Tyler was leaning against the wall next to her door, and that made him stand straight up.

"Who's Dana? And what do you mean, she has a crush on me? I mean, what, have I met her? Am I suddenly a sex symbol or something?"

"No, no," Val assured him. Something thumped shut behind the door. "You're number 21."

"On the Top Ten Bachelors List?" Tyler asked, amazed. He didn't know people looked at that—well, except for maybe crazed fourteen-year-olds who were looking for Leonardo DiCaprio.

"Yeah. And she goes through it and decides whom to crush on—she's a very methodical person, Dana. Well, George Clooney is too old, and she has this turnoff to rappers, and she recently got over Leo DiCaprio"—Tyler remembered old Leo had ranked 20—"and you're next."

"You know, I find it an insult that I'm after Leonardo DiCaprio," said Tyler.

"Don't worry… you're much cuter. She just likes actors. Brad Pitt was a longstanding thing, too."

"Okay," Tyler agreed, continuing the conversation while burying his face in his hands in agony, "so Dana has a crush on me. Go on."

"Well, I was helping her set up and she said how—I think it was Ashley—saw Tyler Connell at the sorority and she wished she was there and it would be the best birthday present ever to have him come to her birthday, and she was sighing, and—"

"Please, Val, save me the gory details," said Tyler with a grimace. Val swore from the other side of the door when a bump connected with a thump and made an "ouch!" Tyler assumed she had stubbed her toe.

"Right—_ow—_well, it's her golden birthday—she's 22, see—and I wanted to give her a really good present, so you—" The door swung open as she finished her sentence, "—are coming with me."

"Is it a retro party or something?" Tyler asked warily, sizing up Val's formfitting black pants and pink halter that ended above four inches of skin. Her hair was pulled into a high, fashionably messy ponytail and she had a golden chain around her neck. The retro part was actually just a guess because of the white, button-down, short-sleeved shirt that was tied just under the end of the pink and the start of a tanned stomach; the gold charm on the necklace that was shaped like a minute peace sign; and the inch-high black ankle boots that seemed just like Melissa's, coupled with the hairstyle and golden hoops in her ears made a throwback to the 70's without looking like she was a hippie. "And do you have a thing with shirts ending above your stomach, or is that just to torment me? And are those Melissa's shoes?"

"Kind of, what are you talking about, and yes, how'd you know?"

"She wore them when she came to my office. And remember? The beach? You wore two-pieces then—"

"I was trying to get a tan, imbecile," laughed Val, trying hard to mask any fear or embarrassment. "Not torment you. How did you remember that, anyway? It's been seven years."

"It tormented me anyway," said Tyler softly, "and I remember everything I've ever done with you." Val's blue eyes grew uncertain at his words.

"I told you to please stop it, Tyler," Val said softly, trying to mask the pain in her voice. "I'm not ready for you to bring back memories I've been trying so hard to forget. Wait until I can deal with you to penetrate my skin, to crawl into my heart and start living there like a bird—a bird that will fly away. So… just let me live a while. And don't pressure it."

"Pressure what?" Tyler asked lightheartedly, dropping all knowledge of the conversation. Val smiled weakly.

"So, anyway, find something remotely retro and hurry up, the party starts at seven fifteen, goes until maybe one? We should get there early to set up, though." Her absent-minded babbling was made worse by the fact Tyler was close. Too close.

Far too close for her to reach.

"I'll go change," said Tyler agreeably. "And then we'll go." Val nodded in response, mutely and automatically. Of course they'd go. Go to the party and socialize and rip her heart out watching Tyler dance with others and listening to songs.

But maybe it was easier for her heart to be ripped out than to fall in love and have her heart split and torn while still in her chest, beating steadily but mourning like a lost bird_. Easier to fall in love,_ thought Val_, than it is to fall out. Isn't that ironic?_

Oh, she fell in love too easily with Tyler, without thinking and without knowing that the sun had to go out sometime and she would be alone in the darkness.

God, she should have looked ahead.__

_ _

_My heart should be well schooled_

_'Cause I've been fooled_

_In the past_

_But still I fall in love too easily_

_I fall in love too fast_

_ _

"No one likes you when you're twenty-three, and still more amused by prank phone calls…"

The song blared as Val and Tyler walked into the room, which contained a small amount of people—perhaps thirty—most of whom were Alpha Chi's helping set up tables and stereos.

"…Call ID, my friends say I should act my age, what's my age again…"

Blink182 filled Val's ears and brain with an earsplitting volume, but this would be just enough to be audible once the party started going.

"I thought you said we were going to be late," Tyler whispered into her ear.

"The limo driver goes faster than I thought," replied Val. "Hold on, that's Dana."

Dana Van Doken was about 5' 5", with reddish-brown hair that was pulled up behind her head and brown-gray eyes. Her feet were clad in red flip-flops that matched her ponytail holder that pulled her hair into a loose bun, her calf-length skirt was fuchsia, and the tank top she was wearing was yellow. PEACE was tattooed across her upper arm in rhinestones and the choker draped around her neck had blue-silver beads glistening.

"Val! You look great! Is Melissa coming?" Her voice rang steadily with enthusiasm. "I haven't seen her in a while…" Her eyes, for the first time, turned to Tyler.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "Oh my God."

Tyler was sure she was about to faint, but he had a feeling supporting her with his arm wouldn't make matters any better.

"Dana, meet Tyler," introduced Val perkily. "Tyler, Dana."

"Hi," mumbled Dana in a definite daze. "Hi. Bye."

She wandered off, pinching her arm now and then, stumbling slightly and taking looks over her shoulder to reassure herself he was still there.

"She'll get over it," Val told him, watching her go. "At least, I think so."

The music switched off.

"I'll go see what happened, I guess," said Tyler uneasily. "Coming?"

"In a minute," said Val. "In a minute." Tyler nodded and turned. Val's eyes followed his back.

"Now," she told herself in a soft whisper, "the only question is if I'll get over it."

_ _

_I fall in love too easily_

_I fall in love too fast_

_I fall in love too terribly hard_

_For love to ever last_

_ _

__The party was under way, but Val wasn't having fun at all. She supposed he was just being polite, but she disliked him talking with others.

Flirting with others.

Jealousy was vastly overestimated.

Val fought to get control and jumped when someone came up behind her and yelled "Hey!" over the music.

"Melissa!" She wasn't Tyler. Tyler was still in her view, talking to an energetic Phi Gamma named Beth. "I thought you weren't coming until eight!"

"It is eight," Melissa pointed out. "You've been staring at Tyler for an hour and a half."

"You don't know I started at six thirty," Val protested. "And I haven't been staring the whole time. I've been dancing… and talking… and getting refreshments…"

"And your eyes keep wandering towards a certain cute multimillionaire who's dancing with other girls," Melissa said.

"Only nine other girls," responded Val, trying to reassure herself. "Most of the time he's just been talking."

"But the question is… what's he talking about?" Melissa paused to let her words sneak under Val's skin. "He loves you, Val, but he can't love you forever. Are you going to tell him you love him… or are you going to stand back and watch him fall out of love with you? There's only so much time… and after five years, time is running out."

Val looked at Tyler for a minute.

"Fine," she whispered. "Fine. Time's up. And I won't run anymore."

She walked over to him, slowly but sure of what she wanted to do—now, how was she going to do it?

Melissa laughed.

"Fools," she snickered. "How do they fall out of love with each other if they haven't even entirely admitted they're in love in the first place?"

But that was all about to change—after all, Melissa Daniels wasn't a psychiatrist-in-training for nothing!

*

Tyler turned at the tug on his sleeve and met with Val's eyes.

"Hey, Val," he said, sounding surprised. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you."

"Never mind that," said Val through gritted teeth as she tried to smile at Beth. "Why don't you come with me." It wasn't a question, and she took Tyler's unspoken answer as yes as she pulled him away.

"Bye!" he said to Beth, who waved and then immediately turned to someone else and began another conversation.

"What do you want?" Tyler asked as Val tugged him into the empty kitchen and the wooden Venetian door swung shut behind her.

Val looked into his questioning eyes and instantly every thought she had of telling him she loved him flew out of her mind like a bird out a window. She wasn't ready to say it. She didn't know if he was ready to hear it. And if he left again after telling her he wouldn't… it might kill her.

Because Val knew he was going to leave—he couldn't stay in LA forever—and she didn't want him to break her heart and she didn't want to break his heart and so it was safer to just not admit it.

Except—then—her heart would break more.

Her mouth didn't seem to be listening to her head, though, because it was saying things she hadn't decided to say yet.

"Stop!" Her voice was firm. Loud. Loud enough to be heard in the kitchen, which carried the noise of the party but didn't amplify it in the silence, loud enough to be heard in the pause as her heart stopped beating, loud enough to carry to Tyler's ears and loud enough for him to hear it.

But not loud enough for him to understand what it meant.

"What?" he asked, puzzled. Val's eyes shut tightly, closed so that she couldn't see his face, grinding against her mind, which wanted her to open her eyes and look into his eyes again… open… close… open… close… open… close…

Val opened her eyes.

"Stop flirting with everyone. Stop being so nice. Stop talking. Stop it because I want to know what I'm doing. Stop it because I don't want them to like you. Stop because you're supposed to be the bad guy, the guy who broke my heart, and now you're just making them like you! Stop making them like you! Stop caring what they think!" She didn't know what she was saying, but at least her mouth hadn't issued the words "stop loving me and go home". Her eyes screwed shut again.

"I don't care what they think," Tyler said gently, pulling her eyes open with a soft voice. "I don't care what anyone thinks. I care what you think. I care about you. And I'm not going to stop caring about you. I love you, Val, and you may think I'm going to break your heart but I am going to try the hardest I possibly can not to break it. I love you and there's absolutely nothing—nothing—you can do about it."

He leaned towards her and kissed her quickly but fiercely, crossing the ultimate line and pulling away all in the same five seconds.

And then he turned and walked out the door.

Val stood there a moment, watching the door swing shut with its hypnotic grin as the music fell in and out, in and out, in… and out.

She drew herself into reality and pulled her senses together, opening the door and walking out into the party, searching for a flash of red in the crowd.

Her eyes moved towards the sound system, towards the young man talking to Jake, the DJ for the night.

Val's stomach plummeted as the familiar chords began.

She wasn't sure if she could stand this song, not now… not without Tyler right by her side to hold her. Not at this point in time… no, it was too hard. Val turned away.

But Tyler seemed to know what was wrong and even across the room he could tell it was too much for her. In just a few seconds he was by her side.

"What are you_ doing?" _Val asked him tearfully. "First you come to LA and you make me remember exactly what I was trying to forget and then you kiss me and then you play this song! Our song! You kissed me, Tyler!"

"I'm sorry," Tyler apologized simply. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have done that, Tyler," Val said, tears running down her face. She did like the kiss—of course she liked the kiss! But how was her mouth supposed to agree with her mind… with her heart? She was split down the middle and the majority of her wanted to kiss him, but for once the minority was winning and she was reprimanding him instead of kissing him.

"You're right."

"I am?" It was that easy? That easy for him to let go of it?

"I shouldn't have done it." Tyler was planning something. Val could see it in his eyes. But right now she had no idea—besides, her eyes were blurred with tears and she probably imagined it.

"You shouldn't have?" Val's heart broke. Was he going to let go of the idea entirely? She didn't want that… or did she?

"I should have done this."

She realized what he was about to do the moment his hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him.

He kissed her.

This wasn't as quick as the other one had been—this one was gentle and sure and told her so much. It spoke of sunlight and stars and moonlight and angels and happiness and Val was sure—instantly sure—that Tyler might leave LA, but he would never leave her. He would never break her heart again and everything was going to be fine and she wouldn't have to cry anymore. He would to sacrifice everything he could for her if she would just trust him and let him care.

She leaned forward, crushing her body against his and letting her head fall onto his shoulder, maintaining contact with his mouth as long as she possibly could without needing breath.

Except everyone needs breath sooner or later, and her lips parted slowly, her head still on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Tyler whispered. "I'm so sorry I broke your heart. I honestly didn't mean to… I honestly didn't want to say goodbye."

"It's okay," Val sniffled, "everything's okay now."

"I won't break your heart again," Tyler told her. "I promise I won't."

"I know." Another tear ran onto his shirt. "I know."

The song reached her, and Tyler whispered the words into her ear…

_ _

Nobody could hurt me like I know she could hurt me 

_But there's nothing in this world I want more_

_Nobody could take me to the places she takes me_

_Places I've never been before_

_With my eyes open knowing full well_

_ _

"I did it," Melissa said happily to Hank, watching the couple. "I think I actually did it."

"They were begging for help," Hank told her."Don't credit yourself so much."

"Well… who went to Tyler's office? Me. Who told Val he loved her? Me. Who told Tyler she loved him? Me. And who was the ultimate assistant in their relationship?"

"Let me guess. You."

"Exactly," said Melissa. "So see? I did it."

"Fine," sighed Hank. "You did it."

"Thank you."__

_ _

_I could fall from heaven_

_I could fall from heaven_

_I could fall_

_I could break_

_That's the chance I take_

_I could fall_

_ _

"I've already fallen," Val told Tyler. "I fell and you caught me."

"I'm glad I caught you," said Tyler, "because now you can catch me."

Silence reigned as Val burrowed into Tyler's shoulder more deeply, burying her face in the vermilion-colored cloth and inhaling his scent.

"You want to go home?" Tyler asked tentatively. Val nodded in response. He moved his arm to around her shoulder as she straightened, taking her head off of his shoulder, leaving rapidly dissolving tears behind in her wake. Together they walked out of the party and to the limo to take them back to her apartment.

*

Walking down the hall to reach the apartment was pure torture for both of them. The silence was unbearable and the uneasiness crackled in the air like electricity before a storm—and soon the rain would come. It had been easy, caught up in the moment at the party, but now reality had settled and neither of them had any idea what would happen when the white door fell shut behind them and they were out of the public's eye.

He was so close, Val realized. All she had to do was reach out and touch him. A simple movement… but then why was it so hard?

The door opened.

_Open… close… open… close…_ Val intoned in her mind as she entered, letting her eyes fall shut again_. Open. Close. Open close open close open close open close open…_

The door closed.

Her eyes opened.

Tyler was looking at her worriedly.

"I won't leave you," he promised again. "I mean it. You don't have to worry."

"I've been living in reality to long to not worry," Val told him. "I'm trying to trust you, I'm trying so hard…"

"Don't force it." Tyler's eyes were still worried. She was not the only one uneasy about what might happen. "Don't force it."

Val sighed. "I'm so sorry." She went into the kitchen and retrieved a diet Coke—Melissa's favorite nonalcoholic drink. "You want a Coke?" she called out to Tyler.

"No."

Val tried to open the can with shaking fingers and didn't succeed. She concentrated and pulled the tab, but it remained securely shut. Suddenly nothing in the world mattered as much as getting that can open.

"Here."

Somewhere along the way Tyler had crept up behind her and taken the can away from her. He snapped the lid open and handed it to her.

Val started crying, tears running in torrents down her face. Tyler gently pried the aluminum that was being crushed away from her hand and wrapped his arms around her, rocking slowly.

"I can't help it," sobbed Val. "I just… I just… don't know. I've gotten so used to missing you and crying at night and now that you're here I don't know if I can stop crying. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do anything and I want to kiss you but I don't know where"—her words were coming in short, painful gasps—"in—the—world—to_ start!"_ She leaned back into his chest and cried.

"Val… look… I honestly don't know why you're crying. I'm not saying you should stop, I just don't know what's wrong. I know you inside and out—or at least I did—and I don't think you know why, either. Maybe you just need to get out some tears or maybe you're not ready for me to love you yet or maybe you just don't know what's going on. Thousands of maybes and I did promise you I'd get rid of them all, didn't I?" He was answered with a nod. "So, to begin, I know exactly where in the world to start."

"And that would be…?"

"Right here."

Tyler kissed her, not stopping the soothing rock except to wind his arms more tightly around her body.

"That better?" he asked, smoothing her hair and balancing his lips on her head.

"Yeah."

"I'm still falling," he informed her, "and now might be a good time to catch."

Val smiled.

"Fine. I'll catch you. Tell me when to try." He paused a moment.

"Right about now."

She kissed him quickly and stepped away.

"Hold on a sec. I've got an idea."

The CD was in the player… Melissa had probably planned this out exactly. Val flicked the switch and heard Tyler laugh.

"You have a one-track mind."

"You're lucky I have a one-track CD," pointed out Val. Tyler grinned.

"Very true."__

_ _

_Look at me I'm flying_

_Just a breath away from dying_

_Holding onto her and letting go_

_As I walk across this wire above a lake of fire_

_And lean into the wind that starts to blow_

_With my eyes open knowing full well_

_ _

2:48.

Again.

"Tyler?" The voice was soft and carried in the wind of the window that was cracked open to let in the warm Californian night air.

Tyler woke from his half-sleep and sat up.

"What's wrong?"

Something had to be wrong. Val was standing in the doorway, a tear staining her cheek. Tyler had thought he had made all the tears go away, but looking at the suddenly fragile figure in the door, pale from the light of the moon, he hadn't. A ratty stuffed bear, tattered from years of use, hung from her hand by one arm, forlornly dangling.

"I had a dream," she choked.

"A dream that would unite all people?" inquired Tyler with a grin, trying to cheer her up.

"A dream that you left… and I was alone. And you didn't care about my feelings and you said you didn't care and then you boarded the plane and didn't even say goodbye."

Tyler's smile faded as he looked at Val's troubled eyes and the tears threatening to course down her face.

"Come here," he said roughly as he motioned towards the empty place on the bed and edged over to give her more room. Val hesitated before sitting down gingerly on the mattress.

"I wouldn't leave you," Tyler told her again. "I wouldn't. And I would always say goodbye and I would_ always _care. Always."

"I know," Val said, "but it scared me, Tyler. It really did. I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go, either. See? We've reached a traffic cone." Val laughed at the expression the squad had coined after the traffic cone incident. "I don't want to leave and you don't want me to go. There's only one answer."

"What?"

"I don't go."

Val looked at him, searching his eyes before coming to a conclusion. "You've got to go."

"You're right," sighed Tyler, leaning back. "I have to see what it's like to live without you again. I could stay forever, but we have to let me leave. I have to leave to make sure it won't break either of our hearts."

"That didn't make any sense," Val said slowly. "But I understood. And you're right."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Tyler told her. "As soon as I possibly can."

"I'll be waiting."

"So, anyway, I like your bear. Is that the one I gave you?" Tyler rapidly changed the subject. It would hurt too much to discuss going when he had only really come back not even six hours ago.

"Yeah." Val picked the bear up and squinted at it. "It's named Albert."

Tyler cracked up. "Albert the Elbow the Second."

"Exactly."

"I missed you," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her down to the bed so that he was looking directly into her eyes.

"I missed you, too," she replied. "I missed you a lot."

He kissed her and pulled her to him, his arms winding around her frame.

"Night, Val."

"Night."__

_  
Do I hide my heart? Do I lock my door?  
Do I tear it out so it don't feel no more?  
No, I risk it all knowing that I could fall from heaven  
I could fall from heaven  
I could fall  
I could fall  
I could fall  
I could fall  
Fall, fall_

_ _

**_ _**

**Nope, that's not the end. One more chapter and this story is done and I continue work on _For The Gold. _So… did you enjoy? This one was *gasp double gasp* eleven pages long. Whew. That's a lot of typing.**

** **

So! To the disclaimers! The first song belongs to Björk/Frank Sinatra. I originally found the song under Björk, but searching for the lyrics I found the song (plus some extra lyrics at the beginning) under Frank Sinatra. So… yeah. I Fall In Love Too Easily belongs to them. I Could Fall (Tyler and Val's special song *sob*) belongs to Evan and Jaron. Yay, Evan and Jaron.

Erm… characters belong to Disney and Alliance Atlantis. Melissa belongs to me, Dana/Beth/Dana's crush on Tyler/plot/story belong to me. Hip, hip, hooray! I have at least _some _things that belong to me. Bye!

~Ivy Leaves

P.S. – Special side note from me to you: Has anyone noticed that in real life, Danso Gordon goes to UCLA, and in this story Hank goes to UCLA? Hmm… my mind does strange things without telling me, as Ray Bradbury says (well, kind of) in the Afterword of Fahrenheit 451 (Which is one of the best books in the world and if you haven't read it, definitely read it and the movie stinks! I mean, Mildred's name isn't Linda and Clarisse isn't twenty and the people who made the movie are retards. *grumbles extensively* Okay, I'm done now.) All right. Ramblings are done. Except—has anyone noticed (yeah, again) that Melissa Andrea Daniels's initials are MAD? Hmm… actually, I planned that. Okay, I'm done and whoever can guess at the three most frequently used themes in this and previous chapters gets brownie points and maybe a mention in last chapter! Bye!


	7. Waking Up In Reality

Can You Make It Easier

Can You Make It Easier 

Chapter 7: "Waking Up In Reality" 

Val yawned and opened her eyes, rolling sleepily over onto Tyler.

"Ouch," he mumbled, eyes still closed, sure that his pillow had started attacking him and that was all. Nothing important or anything.

"Wake up," Val told him. That got his attention. He took his head out from its position buried in the pillow and shook the crick in his neck, opening his eyes.

"Morning, Val," he said. "What time is it?"

Her blue eyes flew to the clock.

"9:04," she told him. Tyler sat up. "Why? What's wrong?"

"My flight leaves at 10:46," Tyler moaned, "and I'm not packed yet. Great."

"You know, if you miss it, you could always stay here longer," pointed out Val. "I wouldn't mind."

"I'd love to," Tyler said. Val's eyes lit up. "But I can't." The light dimmed.

"Oh. Okay."

Val pushed the blanket away and got out of bed, feeling cold even though the flat was warm and she was dressed in flannel pants and a T-shirt. She went over to the counter and sat on the stool, spinning left, then right, then left, then left right left right left…

She stopped.

Tyler sensed something was drastically wrong and he climbed out of the bed, too, padding over and sitting down on the stool next to hers.

"What's wrong?" he asked, her words of before falling onto his tongue and echoing. Melissa had probably gone to stay with a friend or Hank once she had seen Val and Tyler leave the party, and he was glad. Even though Melissa didn't usually butt in too much, alone was the best way to talk.

"Nothing."

"What's wrong?" he asked again, concerned.

"I don't want you to leave," said Val in a very small voice. "I want you to stay. And I want you to be here. I want to be able to kiss you. And… I'm being selfish, but I don't care, 'cause I love you. And I don't want you to go." Val bit her lip for his answer.

"I really want to stay here, Val," Tyler said helplessly. Val's hopes shattered on sharp rocks again. "But I can't. I can't. I promise I'll be back soon, though. I swear. Just give me a little time to think and you a little time to think and we can come back and share our thoughts and then we can decide what to do."

Val spun her stool away from him, then back towards him after a moment's thought.

"Fine. I'll wait for you to think. I'll wait for me to think. I'll wait for you to come back and then I'll wait for you to leave again. If you leave once, you'll leave again, and again, and again. But I promise I'll wait, okay? I will." She hopped off the stool. "You'd better go get packed."

It was painfully obvious she was upset. Painfully obvious, but there was nothing Tyler could do right now. He tried to smile at her, then went to obey her request and pack.__

_ _

*

__Val came out of her room half an hour later, still dressed in her pajamas. She wasn't about to say that goodbye was forever and that he wouldn't come back, because then it might come true. She wasn't going to say that they shouldn't have listened to reality, because she was the one who had closed her eyes and jumped from the cliff. And she wasn't going to ask him to stay, because third time wasn't always a charm.

She was just going to say goodbye. Nothing else. Just goodbye.

It turned out to be more than that, though, when she wrapped her arms around him and cried into his shirt, his hand stroking her hair reassuringly, his chin resting on her head, trapping her in an embrace.

It was especially more than that when she kissed him, because Val could never keep any feeling from Tyler when they were kissing, and he knew everything—everything tiny, immediate thing—she was thinking for a split second before she pulled away.

"You're going to miss your flight," she pointed out, trying to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks, following in the tracks the others had mapped out and inventing their own routes. He was going. He was going to come back, but he was going and that was the main part that had her upset.

"Yeah." Tyler picked up his suitcase. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," said Val, trying to be cheerful—though that was hard when her insides were being ripped out.

"It was great, seeing you again and all."

"Goodbye, Tyler." Tears threatened for a minute at the corner of her eye, then carried out the threat by rolling down her cheek. She had been so_ good _at hiding her feelings before Tyler came. So very_ good. _

He hesitated.

"Goodbye isn't forever, Val," he told her. "I'll be back. I promise."

"Yeah," Val said. "Yeah, I know."

Tyler hesitated again, then opened the door.

"See you."

The door closed behind him. Val listened to his footsteps carry him towards the elevator. She listened to the elevator beep. She listened to the doors close. And then she listened to the silence.

Painful silence.

She broke down entirely, collapsing on the sofa and sobbing into her hands. He was gone. Really gone. Sure, he would come back—he had promised. But how was she supposed to live without him in the meantime?__

_ _

_ _

__She must have stayed like that for twenty minutes, but it felt like hours upon hours upon endless, endless hours before the door opened. Melissa, Val thought blurrily.

Val was sobbing too hard to say hello, sobbing too hard to realize it probably wasn't Melissa after all when the expected phrase "what's wrong?" didn't ring out, sobbing too hard to think when someone sat down next to her.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Val opened her eyes. Tyler was in front of her. She closed them.

"You're not here," she informed him. "You went on that plane and you're going to go away for a long time and then you might come back and then we might be able to live happily ever after. So go get on your plane and leave." Val started her rocking, soothing rhythm, back and forth and back and forth and back… forth…

"The plane probably left," he said. "I got to the airport and I looked at the plane and I realized there was no reason to leave the best thing that ever happened to me. You." He watched her stop rocking and open her tear-streaked eyes again.

"But you said you were going to leave," said Val uncomprehendingly. "You said."

"I promised I'd come back, though," Tyler reminded her. "And I came back. I don't break promises."

"You've broken three," sniffled Val, "and I didn't want you to break another." She started crying again.

"What three?" Tyler asked. "Which three did I break?"

"One," began Val, counting on her fingers, "in high school. You promised we'd be together forever. Two, you said you'd get rid of all the maybes. You didn't, Tyler. Not yet, or else I wouldn't have been so hurt when you left. Three… three… you said you wouldn't break my heart again, Tyler, and damn it! Look where I am now!"

"On the couch," volunteered Tyler, lightening the mood. Val laughed.

"No."

"You're not on the couch?" he asked.

"I am, but that's not the point!" Val folded her arms and huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but her lips were smiling, and Tyler noticed.

"You're smiling," he informed her. Val clamped a hand over her mouth.

"No, I'm not," she said, voice muffled by her fingers.

"Oh, yes you are." Tyler leaned over and tried to kiss her through her hand, prying her fingers off her mouth.

"No, I'm not!" insisted Val, laughing. "I swear."

"You know, it's very difficult to kiss you when you're laughing," Tyler said, pushing the laughing Val over onto her back and stopping her laughter with a kiss. Val reacted automatically to the kiss, winding her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry I broke all those promises," he said somewhere between kissing her mouth and her neck.

"It's okay," Val sighed, finding his mouth again. "It's okay now."

Of course, Melissa chose just that moment to actually walk in with plastic bags in her hands.

"Okay, I'll be leaving now," she said, opening the door and turning around in the same movement as her gray eyes landed on the couple. Tyler jumped away from Val as she bolted up.

"It's fine, Mel," Val assured Melissa.

"I just wanted to put the groceries on the table," Melissa said, placing the bags on the counter. "And I'll be going now."

The door closed behind her.

"So," Tyler said conversationally. "Do you want to go out on our first date with each other in five years?"

"What makes you think it's not my first date at all in five years?" questioned Val.

"Because you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Tyler reached out and touched her cheek. "You get thousands of offers, don't you?"

"What makes you think I accept any of the offers?" Val asked, tears glistening in her eyes.

Tyler answered by kissing her again, long and thoroughly, searching and listening and letting her break free of the restraints of maybes to fly away into the sunset.

"I never said you did," he said. Val smiled and kissed him through her tears.__

_ _

_*_

_ _

"Where are we going?" Val inquired, following Tyler onto the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Tyler smiled, intertwining her fingers with his and shrugging.

"It's a surprise," he said. Val narrowed her eyes, turning towards him more.

"A surprise, huh?" He nodded and she placed her fingers gently on the back of his neck, sliding her hands to his back as she scooted closer and kissed him. Hard. "Okay, then I'll convince you to tell me," she said before her voice was cut off by his mouth.

Feeling his smile under her lips, Val pulled back. "You knew I was going to do that, didn't you?" she asked.

"I'll fake surprise if you want," offered Tyler.

"You're an idiot," she informed him, bringing her head to rest in the space between his chest and chin.

"We're going to Le Marché du Poisson," Tyler told her. "You're a devil, you know that?"

"I don't think that worked the way it was supposed to," said Val, separating.

"The role wasn't meant for you," he said. "You're more of an innocent type."

"EXCUSE ME?" asked Val. "I took kickboxing in sophomore year."

"Okay, maybe not that innocent," complied Tyler. "Come on, let's go before our reservations are canceled and I'm beaten to a pulp by your fists and feet while you demonstrate your kickboxing skills."

Val grinned. "Good idea."

*

"You know, I never took kickboxing," confessed Val on the edge of her seat in the quaint restaurant. Their food was eaten and pushed to the side.

"I know."

"I know you know… or I think I thought I know you know… wait. That didn't make sense."

Tyler didn't answer, his eyes flickering towards his watch. Val's heart dropped as her stomach plummeted.

"You lied," she whispered. He looked up, startled.

"What?"

"You said you loved me," Val reminded him, "and I saw you look at your watch. You shouldn't care about time if you love me!" This was just great. She had_ trusted _Tyler not to break her heart again. She was_ sure _he loved her. And now he was looking at his watch!

"I don't care about time," Tyler assured her. "I was just making sure I got the moment right."

"What moment right?"

"Yesterday I kissed you at exactly 8:17," he told her.

"What, were you keeping track? The first or second time?" Val was puzzled. What did the timing have to do with anything?

"The first time… and I might have looked at my watch right after," admitted Tyler sheepishly. Val leaned over to look at his watch. 8:16:23. 37 seconds left.

"So 37—well, 36 seconds now—seconds left. So what?"

"I came up with a solution to our problem," said Tyler. "I know it's kind of fast and I don't want to pressure you and if you say no I completely understand and if you say yes then we can wait as long as you want before—" Val cut him off gently. 16 seconds left.

"Tell me what it is," she requested slowly. 12 seconds. 11 seconds. Tyler swallowed and got off his chair, kneeling in front of her. 9 seconds. 8 seconds.

"You are the most gorgeous, wonderful, beautiful, amazing, intelligent person I have ever met," he said, reaching into his pocket. 5 seconds. "And I would be thrilled to never have to leave you and stay by your side for the rest of our lives and get rid of all the maybes…" 2 seconds. Val had a feeling what was coming next, right on time… Tyler pulled a black velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Valerie Lanier, would you marry me?"

Her universe stopped, right then and there. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but was it really going to be that easy?

_No one said life was easy, _she reminded herself, and that made her decision for her. Reality was going to tell her it wasn't practical, but for once, to hell with reality.

"Yes," she whispered. Tyler stared at her, like he couldn't believe she had actually accepted. "I'll marry you."

There wasn't really anything to do except kiss her, so he did just that, in the middle of the restaurant while he slid the ring onto her finger. "I love you so much," he mumbled. Somehow she understood through the tears rolling down her cheeks and her mouth that was muffling his words slightly, and somehow she answered him.

"I love you, too."

Breaking lip contact, Val looked around and realized everyone at the surrounding tables was looking at them with smiles.

"I think we're going to be in the paper tomorrow," commented Val, glancing at a man who was clicking his camera insistently, recognizing Tyler.

"Who cares?" Tyler returned, handing his credit card to the waiter as he sat in his chair again. "I love you. I will always love you. I promise."

Val smiled, looking at the ring—a slender gold band with a diamond lily in the center. She took it off and read the engraving that she knew would be there: I Love You. Simple and sweet…

"It's absolutely amazing," she told him, kissing him again with no regard to a low whistle from a teenage boy somewhere in the crowd. "Just like you."

"Monsieur Connell," the waiter interrupted in a French accent, handing back the credit card.

"Est-ce que tu as un rose pour ma fiancée?" asked Tyler in French.

"Mais oui, bien sûr." The waiter broke into a smile and walked away in pursuit of Tyler's request.

"I thought you took Latin," Val said with a small frown.

"I took French for three years in college."

"There's so much I've missed," Val told him. "There's so much we need to catch up on."

"But we have all the time in the world," Tyler reminded her.

"Let's go," Val said suddenly, rising. "I want to show you something."

She pulled Tyler out of the restaurant with a kiss.

"Mais—le rose! Vous oubliez votre rose!" the waiter called after them, holding up a long-stemmed red rose.

"Je veut leur rose," volunteered a man next to him. The waiter sighed and handed it to him, who handed it to his wife.

"Merci."

*

"So now it's my turn to ask you where we're going," said Tyler. Val smiled and kissed him.

"I want to show you something." She grabbed his hand and ran across the street when the light turned green.

"A park?" Tyler asked dubiously, looking around in the late twilight.

"Wait." Val pulled him to the middle of the small park, where a fountain that was lit with red and orange lights, making the water glow. "Look… I wrote it when I first came. When I was still kind of hopeful. And it lasted for five years. It was kind of stupid, but…"

Tyler kneeled down and read the words at the base of the fountain, black ink worn but not disappeared against stone: **T/V Forever**.

He sat down, leaning against the stone, and pulled Val down with him.

"I have something else for you, but don't think it's because of pity or guilt or anything, because I think that if we're going to be married it's only fair."

A crumpled piece of yellow paper came out of his pocket, wrinkled and torn with ten numbers jotted down in blue ink. Val took it wordlessly and looked at it.

"Is this is the combination to open your bank account?" she asked, staring at it and then looking at him, puzzled.

"Yes. The one in San Francisco, which holds 2.8 million dollars. The rest of my money is in different banks, but you can have those combos, too, if you want." Tyler looked at her worriedly for her reaction. She fingered the paper, deciding, then emptied it into the small pocket in her black dress.

"Thanks," she said uneasily. "But I don't know if I'll use the money. It might kind of feel like stealing."

"You're welcome to use any of it that you want," Tyler reassured her, "but… if you don't want to, that's fine."

Val switched from leaning against the fountain to resting her head on Tyler's lap. He gently stroked her hair.

"Thanks," she whispered. "For freedom."

"Freedom?" He was confused.

"It's kind of an odd feeling," Val confessed, "but I always thought… well, before you came back, anyway… that engagement and marriage sort of bound you. That you weren't really free if you were married, that you couldn't spread your wings and fly. But now, I just feel more liberated than I have in five years, really." She snuggled into Tyler's stomach and smiled up at him. Tyler bent down until his face was just a few inches from hers.

"Maybe," Tyler suggested, "you fooled yourself into thinking that it bound you."

"Maybe," Val responded, imitating him with a grin, "I fooled myself to keep from thinking about you."

"Maybe," said Tyler, "I should kiss you." Val pretended to contemplate the thought, her eyes bright with laughter._ Thank God, _Tyler silently said,_ that Val hasn't changed too much._ He had been scared for a while that she might never get out of her protective shell he had forced her to build around herself.

"Well, okay," Val agreed, trying to sound dubious, but Tyler was already kissing as hard as possible. Her shoulders jerked up automatically, trying to pull closer.

Breaking for air a minute or two later, Val spoke. "You think we can get through this?" She pointed to the ring on her finger to show she meant marriage by 'this'.

"I think we already have," pointed out Tyler, kissing her again.

And the sun disappeared over the horizon, but reality was a dream for the couple, and so they lived on in their own light which would never be extinguished again.

Okay, I admit, the last paragraph sucked, but hey! It's eight in the morning on a Sunday and I woke up two hours ago. Don't blame me. Besides, I'm hyper.

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**So now that the story's done, I have a small question to ask: "Do you want an epilogue?" I really am flexible and I'm thinking I won't write one, but if you guys really want it… it would probably be set three months from now. Possibly. Sound good? Up to you.**

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**And now that I've worked so hard on this, could you guys PLEASE review? I'm aiming rather high, for 56 reviews, but that's only 10 more than I have now! PLEASE? Only ten people? Come on, not that hard. Scarlet182 and Arcadia have thousands of reviews (Okay, so mine is eight chapters shorter than Arcadia's Second Chances, but hey! It's the principle.), so what do you say? Please? Pretty please? I'll try to get Gold/Simplicity/Promises/Marquee out sooner (and then you can see what the last three are!) if you do!**

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**Well, thank you for being such loyal readers and sticking by me. (*looks around and realizes no one even read the story*) It was great writing this… and Simplicity should satisfy more of your needs for future fics. Bye!**

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**~IVY LEAVES**

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